Shadow Technocracy Evangelion
by Venom Chills
Summary: In a world ravaged by Second Impact, giant cyborgs fight to defend humanity against the otherworldly beings they were reverse-engineered from. Meanwhile, the pilots of these war machines must learn who to trust as figures in the shadows plot to use humanity's greatest weapons to further their own agendas. Evangelion AU, full OC cast. Inspired by the Adeptus Evangelion fan RPG.
1. Rain Shadow

Chapter 1: Rain Shadow / Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas

February 20th, 2020

A grey and red jet VTOL skimmed over the sea of clouds that covered California. The rain clouds extended from the red ocean all the way to the Sierra Nevada mountain range. The rain was most intense as it came up to the mountains, then the clouds abruptly ended behind them, revealing a sunbaked desert landscape.

For the passenger, seeing it projected on the interior wall made it feel like flying off a cliff. Ignacio Alvarez was used to heights, but this transition was large enough and sudden enough to make him jump in his seat. He leaned back and ran his hands through his slicked-back black hair, letting out a long breath and stretching out in the luxurious leather seat.

"More than halfway there."

He pushed up his mirrored aviators, hiding his steel-grey eyes. His skin had lost much of its usual tan, contrasting with the dark stubble on his ruggedly handsome face. Not surprising - the flight was the first time in six months that he saw sunlight.

Leaning back further, Alvarez put his heavy combat boots up onto the table separating the seats and stretched his legs, smoothing out the dark blue denim of his jeans. Someone would complain, but he wasn't going to be the one hearing it. Covering his black T-shirt with his leather biker jacket, he began to zone out again.

Ten minutes later, the pilot made an announcement.

"Ladies and gentlemen, if you look to your left you will see the remains of the Groom Lake facility."

Alvarez chuckled. He was the only passenger, so the pilot was being a smartass again. Still, it was worth a look to see the disaster he would've been in if he had transferred six months earlier.

He saw the massive crater in the distance - the result of a weapons malfunction that had caused the loss of over four thousand personnel and three Units. The reported cause was an electrical fault in one of the Penning traps. Even momentary loss of power in a pure antimatter weapon was enough to set it off. Having a stockpile there only made things worse as each bomb contributed its payload of antimatter to the devastation.

"Only boron bombs in Vegas, right?" Alvarez asked over the intercom.

"Yeah, this Charlie Foxtrot was the final straw. Even Japan is planning to scrap the last of their N-twos by the end of the year."

 _Well, that's one less thing to worry about._

Alvarez threw off his jacket and started looking through his shoulder bag. "Did you fly the other guy in too?"

"Nope, he came in from BosWash. Got transferred there right before the boom," the pilot explained.

"And now he's back because this site needs pilots and Units ASAP." Alvarez retrieved a tablet from his bag and turned it on. The familiar secure network authentication screen came up.

"No time to read up on him now. Besides, you gotta turn off all electronic devices before we land. Might as well enjoy the view."

Alvarez flipped off the nearest internal camera, then settled back into his seat.

Despite suffering almost no damage from Second Impact, the Las Vegas area had changed drastically over the last two decades. Casinos and hotels still lined the Strip, but were covered by a slab of metal that was three kilometers wide and stretched from the Welcome sign to Downtown, with the weight supported by tall pillars that doubled as housings for industrial activity. Sleek, futuristic buildings and green spaces covered the platform, creating a second city above the first.

Las Cielos, or "Day City" was largely a tourist paradise like "Night City" below it, but with the prices increased again. It also contained the city's high-end offices and the Vegas Complex University campus.

The architecture became more mundane further out from the city, with the usual mix of apartment buildings, shopping districts, vertical farms and industrial parks. On the edges of the city, almost every building was a bland grey block with four rows of windows. Large red numbers painted on the sides were the only distinguishing feature. In the early post-Impact days, these were tent cities. With the application of 3D printing techniques to construction, mass-produced micro-apartments gave even the poorest residents of American population centers a place to live. Everything that wasn't low-income housing out that far was a solar array, harvesting the abundant energy of the midday sun.

The VTOL slowed down near the layered city, hovering over a ground-level airport. A flying wing aircraft with wingspan of almost half a kilometer had just landed, and was now parked on an equally massive cargo elevator. The VTOL touched down - a fly landing next to the outstretched wings of an albatross. The cargo elevator began to descend, letting out a mechanical groan. On the surface, blast doors slowly closed the rectangular hole in the ground.

After ten minutes of creaking, the elevator stopped with a loud thud. It was now on a rectangular "hill" in the middle of a hangar the size of a small town. The distant walls were made from a dark green metal, while the floor was dark grey. A pair of elevated rails extended from the edge of the cargo elevator to the far end of the hangar, with a huge flatbed rail car mounted on them. The area was abuzz with activity as various smaller transports drove around.

Alvarez stepped out of the VTOL and looked over to the 90-meter-long, aerodynamic container attached to the underside of the massive plane. The number "5-02" was painted in red on the side, along with a stylized fig leaf.

The young man folded up his jacket, carrying it on one shoulder. He grabbed his satchel and put it on the other, then picked up an overstuffed duffel bag. "Looks like I've got everything," he said, taking another glance at the container.

While he watched as the container was lowered onto the transport platform, a grey, electric-powered Jeep Wrangler with the red fig leaf logo on the sides came out from a tunnel under the rails and drove up the gentle incline, parking next to him. Alvarez opened the back door and threw his things in, then got into the front passenger seat.

"Welcome to Vegas, Lieutenant," the driver said, giving the young soldier a glance before hitting the gas. She wasn't much older than him, with warm brown eyes and straight blonde hair cropped at her neck. Like him, she was a first lieutenant, as indicated by the triangular yellow shoulder sleeve patches just below the orange-covered shoulders of her khaki uniform.

"Call me Alvarez. It's a pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant..."

"First Lieutenant Claire Lawson. It's good to meet you too," she replied.

"So, what's a lovely officer like you doing in a place like this?" Alvarez jokingly asked.

"I'm in charge of monitoring you guys when you're out there, which means I'm the first officer in line for chauffeur duty when you're on the ground," Lawson replied.

"Must be a real skeleton crew. I was told that this was a provisional facility. Didn't expect it to be this bad."

Lawson giggled. "Just be thankful that a hangar was on the list of things they decided to put in. Otherwise, your Unit would be baking in the sun and you'd be getting briefings in a hotel meeting room."

"At least the view would be nice, and we could order food that doesn't come out of a vending machine."

"Yeah, this is probably the best facility location when you're off the clock. Both topside levels are great, so remember to have fun," Lawson said with a smile.

"Our definitions of fun must be quite different. I always sat out of the card games during my Air Force days," Alvarez recounted.

The Jeep stopped near a wide doorway. "Maybe you'll get along better with people closer to your age. The other pilot is waiting in the ready room, and the OD will come get both of you once he returns to base," Lawson explained.

"That's a big maybe," Alvarez said as he got out and grabbed his bags. "Anyway, thanks for the ride, Lieutenant."

Both the hallway and the ready room had the same futuristic bunker deco - dull metallic walls and floors, with white LED lights shining down from the ceiling. Access to the ready room was via a sliding door, which was set to remain open right now. The ready room itself was actually closer to a lounge, with several couches, office chairs and coffee tables scattered around the room. A currently inactive smartboard was mounted on the far wall and one of the corners was taken up by a kitchenette with a coffee machine.

He heard the footsteps of another entering the room. The young man adjusted the collar of his white dress shirt with pale fingers and stood up. His sleeves were rolled back to his elbows, and he put his hands in the pockets of his black jeans as he turned on the heels of his dress boots.

His jaw-length black hair was tied back, but left loose at the front to frame his sharp facial features. He scanned the new arrival with his amber eyes, the corners wrinkling as he smirked and walked forward.

"Second Lieutenant Valentine," he said, extending a hand.

The short-haired young man put down a bag and gave a firm handshake. "First Lieutenant Ignacio Alvarez."

"Nice to meet you. I guess you'll be leading our element, then," Valentine commented.

The two young men sat down on opposite couches, with the coffee table between them. Alvarez opened his duffel bag and started searching through it.

"So, you only got one name?"

"Named after the Valentine Treaty."

"Let me guess... you were born on the day it was signed."

"Decanted, to be precise."

Alvarez looked up from his bag. "Ah, a tuber."

"Manufactured," Valentine grumbled.

"Wow, I didn't figure you for the easily offended type."

"I'm not." Valentine's smirk returned. "They engineered me to have enhanced emotional control, among other things."

"Lucky bastard." Alvarez was silent for a moment, then snickered. "Or were your genetic donors married?"

Valentine chuckled. "No idea. How about your parents?"

"Yeah, they were married. Came to the States before Second Impact, then died in a car crash two years after it."

"I'm s-"

"No need," Alvarez interrupted. "I'm over it. Besides, it got me selected for the Ryan Program."

"Ah, I met the Navy guy back at Groom Lake. What branch were you with?"

"Air Force, Pararescue Special Tactics. You ever jump out of a plane before?"

"Yeah, it was part of the muscle memory training. Didn't help too much when it came to the hard drop tests, though."

"That's the problem with sim or human training - you pick up bad habits." Alvarez took out a box of ammunition, a blued steel semiautomatic pistol and an empty magazine. "It's good to have the military training, though. Never know when you're going to need it."

"Damn right. Is that a CZ clone?" Valentine asked.

"EAA Witness, ten-mil. Tears right through anything short of a rifle vest," Alvarez explained as he inserted rounds into the magazine.

"Nice. That reminds me..." Valentine reached into his own pile of bags and pulled out a carbon steel Infinity Firearms 1911.

Alvarez looked up from his task to examine the weapon. "Cool gun, but don't tell me you buy into the forty-five stopping power BS."

Valentine took out the loaded magazine and checked the chamber. "Says the guy using the semi-auto equivalent of three-fifty-sevens. Besides, the bigger bullet makes shredder rounds more effective."

"I still use AP rounds. Military habit." Alvarez finished filling the magazine, loaded it into his gun, racked the slide and decocked the hammed.

"Expecting trouble?" Valentine asked as he reloaded his own gun but left the chamber empty.

"Another old habit." Alvarez slid the Witness into a leather holster and clipped it onto his belt. He threw on his biker jacket afterwards, covering the gun.

Valentine buttoned up his cuffs, then put on a shoulder holster, followed by a smart casual black jacket to conceal it. He holstered the Infinity on his left side and stowed two spare magazines in holders on the right.

"Hitman rig. I like your style," Alvarez commented.

"Thanks. Too bad the weather here automatically makes jackets suspicious."

"At least it's not raining all the time like on the coast. I hated having to wear a respirator and goggles just to go outside."

"That's why the upper city is so big on open spaces, as opposed to the arcoplex designs or skyway networks that are found in most cities these days," Valentine explained.

"I heard the dorms filled up as soon as they designated this as the new main facility for the west coast. You think we'll get apartments with a nice view?" Alvarez asked.

"Most of the junior officers get a place in Night City. I'd imagine we'll be with them."

Alvarez shrugged. "Damn. Sunlight was too much to ask for."

They were interrupted by a booming guttural voice coming from the entrance. "The Thundercloud is designed to withstand a megaton-yield nuke going off directly above it, and can act as a scaled-up Whipple shield against orbital kinetic weapons. Do you really want to give up that protection just because it blocks out the sun?"

"Then we'll fight in the shade," Alvarez retorted.

The vaguely metallic thuds of heavy combat boots against the floor made their way over to the pair of young men. They looked up at the six-foot-six, trench coat-clad officer standing with his arms folded behind his back. His pale, chiselled face was clean-shaven and his short brown hair was parted. Mirrored wraparound sunglasses covered his eyes, adding to his seemingly emotionless look.

"I'm Captain Roland Metzger, the Director of Operations for the Vegas facility. Follow me to your apartments," he said.

* * *

The Dawn Hotel was a shining neomodernist building on the Strip that extended through the Thundercloud, providing accommodation both above and below the steel slab. Since it was not one of the load-bearing buildings, the interior was allowed to be hollow. This space was taken up by a luxurious atrium separated by sky lobbies every thirty floors.

The express elevator stopped on floor 60, allowing the captain and the two new arrivals to transfer to a local elevator.

"We reserved elevator seven and express elevator five for your use. Unfortunately, we didn't have time to modify the building with an emergency express elevator to your floor," Metzger explained as they ascended.

"What do we do if there's a power failure?" Valentine asked.

"The elevators have a backup power supply. The shaft assembly is also fireproof."

"Considering what we're up against, those won't be the worst situations. They could get blocked by debris or completely destroyed," Alvarez pointed out.

"There's BASE jump equipment in your rooms," the captain said, completely deadpan.

Alvarez sighed. "I'm suddenly a lot more grateful for all that HALO training."

The doors opened on floor 88, the second-last one before the building's internal armored layer that extended the Thundercloud's protection to the interior.

"Why didn't we just get rooms at the elevator hub on sixty?" Alvarez asked as they exited and started looking through the numbered doors.

"Traffic is too high and too difficult to restrict," Valentine answered, getting a nod from Metzger. "There are thirty floors of keycards that can be stolen or cloned in order to access it, and a lot of people walking around to blend in with."

"Also, there are only two free rooms, and there's a bar next to them," Metzger added. "Speaking of which, here are your cards."

The young men took their keycards. Alvarez was assigned to room 88-05, while Valentine was in room 88-04.

Alvarez looked over the railing opposite his room entrance. Beyond it was a large hanging display that was currently showing an ad for cigars. The sky lobby was twenty-eight floors below. "Can we get rappelling equipment too? It would be helpful if there's a problem with only the local elevator."

The captain looked over the railing too as he considered the idea. "I'll see what I can do. Might even be able to get some good attachment points installed outside your doors."

"Hey, Alvarez! You ready to check out the interiors?" Valentine called out as he swiped his keycard.

The two apartments were almost identical, with onyx-tiled floors and white walls. They were pre-furnished with furniture largely consisting of glass and metal, while the couches and chairs were covered with grey synthetic suede.

"Wow, the lights have adjustable brightness _and_ color!" Alvarez exclaimed as he cycled through the mood lighting options.

"King-size bed! It's so comfy!" Valentine shouted from his bedroom.

"A two-by-three meter shower? For one person?" Alvarez pondered as he looked around his bathroom.

"Internet refrigerator, internet coffee machine... internet toaster?" Valentine examined the appliance. "It makes pictures on the toast? Who needs that?"

Captain Metzger stood outside, listening to the childlike wonder of two young men experiencing luxury apartments for the first time. He put his hand up to his ear. "I'm at the hotel with the transfers. What is it?"

With the awe of being in his new place subsiding, Alvarez got down to more serious matters. He knocked on the walls, noting the deeper sound of the ones separating the apartments - structural reinforcement that would likely be sufficient to stop even high-velocity pistol rounds. The interior walls were thinner, and would act as concealment instead of proper cover in a firefight. Making a finger gun, he started testing out various angles, determining the best choke points and ambush spots.

Meanwhile, Valentine was rotating the desk in his bedroom, making it face the entrance to the room and side-on to the window. This provided privacy from both viewing angles. He looked through the empty drawers in the desk, then did the same for the ones in his wardrobe. After thinking for a moment, he looked up at the HVAC vents on the ceiling and went to get a chair.

After listening intently for several minutes, Metzger spoke again. "Understood. Bring us up to ARCON two and prepare to issue evac orders to settlements in the projected engagement area."

The mood lighting in the apartments suddenly turned red and an announcement came from every sound system connected to the network. "Attention pilots: report to the ready room immediately. This is not a drill. Repeat: report to the ready room immediately. This is not a drill."

The two pilots ran out of their apartments, reactivating the security systems on their way out. The captain hurried back to the elevator, with the lieutenants catching up a moment later.

"Your suits are in the locker room next to the ready room. Contact me once you've loaded up," Metzger explained as they descended.

The express elevator stopped and the captain got out at the command deck of the underground facility, then it continued to the hangar.

"It's good to finally be back in the game," Alvarez said as he flexed his shoulders, wincing slightly at certain angles.

Valentine leaned back against the elevator wall. "I'm almost excited to have something to shoot at other than training drones."

Alvarez smirked. "Just don't come crying to me when you get hit with feedback for the first time."

"Huh." Valentine looked over to his team mate with a similarly smug expression. "If you end up getting wrecked again, I'd suggest Honolulu-two for your next vacation."

The pilots' ribbing continued as they exited the elevator at the hangar level.


	2. Adapting to the Situation

Chapter 2: Adapting to the Situation / War on Multiple Fronts

The Nerv command center was an expansive underground space. Captain Metzger stood on the second-highest tier of the multilevel command tower that blended into the back wall. He looked over the shoulders of three first lieutenants, including Lawson, as they typed on their workstation computers. The two lower tiers were filled with hectic activity as junior officers and NCOs worked and shouted. The upper tier was reserved for the commander and vice commander of the base, who were currently absent.

The empty space in front of the tower made room for a holographic projections of both data and live audiovisual feeds, and was currently showing a satellite image of British Columbia.

"Alright, we're about to get drone footage from the site," announced First Lieutenant Rebecca Montgomery, the pale, red-haired sensor operator.

"Just got word from Seattle-two. Air Force already sent up a pair of Warthogs. ETA two minutes," First Lieutenant Jacob Ford explained. The dark-haired young man with a no-nonsense look was the military liaison, charged with coordinating conventional forces assisting Nerv operations.

The display switched from the satellite image to aerial drone footage. The bridge crew were shown what they were up against: an 80-meter tall humanoid, resembling a knight in full plate armor. An expert on medieval warfare would've noticed the odd construction of the joints, which seemed to be more streamlined and organic-looking than usual for a suit of armor. However, anyone who was paying attention would've noticed the more obvious sign of the creature's departure from historical accuracy - the giant blades that were fused with its forearms and extended all the way to the ground.

"Pattern blue confirmed! It's an Archetype! DREAM analysis gives a ninety-eight percent chance that it's a Warrior-type," Montgomery shouted.

"Frontline attack, good staying power, not too bright," Metzger said to himself.

"Birds have arrived. Confirm weapons free?" Ford asked.

"Confirmed."

* * *

The grey A-10 "Warthog" Thunderbolt II attack planes circled around the gigantic knight. The undersides of their straight wings bristled with rocket pods and missiles, and the twin turbofan engines at their rears roared with power.

The Warthogs started their attack run, flying towards the knight's eight o'clock. The distinctive buzz of their GAU-8/A Avenger 30mm gatling guns filled the air as they sent a shower of depleted uranium rounds tracing up the Archetype's back.

"Target is padlocked, light 'em up!" the pilot of one of the planes called out as he fired missiles.

The AGM-65 Mavericks streaked towards the knight, then suddenly exploded as they met a barrier of concentric orange octagons. The A-10s banked just in time to avoid it and circled around the Archetype's rear for another attack run.

* * *

"Repeat: negative damage!"

The Nevada crew looked at the drone footage as the planes kept making futile attacks until they ran out of ammo. The Warrior payed them no mind. They weren't even worth swatting.

"Conventional forces ineffective." Metzger rubbed his chin. "What kind of a timer are we working on here?"

Montgomery looked over her readouts. "Target is two hundred klicks north-northeast of Vancouver, heading towards it. If it maintains current speed, it will arrive in four hours. Not sure if the mountains will impede it."

"Lawson, ETA for our Units?"

"We can have them in the air in less than thirty minutes. It'll take another ninety to reach the target."

"You have twenty to get them airborne." The captain paced behind his subordinates. "Ford, contact Seattle. Get a B-four standing by just in case."

* * *

"Why do they have to transport us face-down? Don't they realize that you're constantly standing bent over when the Unit is at this angle?" Alvarez complained as he sat in the elongated, high-tech pilot seat. The display walls of his capsule-shaped cockpit were hooked up to the external feeds of the aerodynamic container, showing the platform that he had been on when he first arrived at the facility. His hands rested on a pair of vaguely pistol-shaped control sticks with full-hand trigger guards. Even though they weren't connected to anything, he kept his fingers off the triggers.

"That's because you're sitting in the piloting position. What you gotta do is sit on the central display, resting your back on the bottom of the seat," Valentine explained while relaxing in his own Unit. Surely enough, he was using the small display that was mounted between the leg spaces of the pilot's seat as an improvised seat while the Unit was face-down. He had shifted the control sticks to their foremost positions and was pressing buttons on the inside surfaces of the trigger guards.

Both of the pilots wore skin-tight, full-body suits with high-tech chest pieces and hexagonal cuffs. Alvarez' suit was predominantly dark grey, with black and white detailing on the shoulders and sleeves. Valentine's, on the other hand, was black with yellow and orange highlights. They also wore teardrop-shaped hairclips on their temples, with the colors matching the main ones of their suits.

"Wow, this is more comfortable. It's also a great way to get thrown around the plug from the slightest jolt," Alvarez commented as he tried the more relaxed position. "Anyway, I can hear you clicking from here. Why are you messing with the settings now?"

A holographic screen came up in Valentine's cockpit. He was forced to sit properly in order to read it since it was oriented for normal piloting. "Just making sure that some Delta Sierra tech didn't accidentally revert to factory settings. It happened when I was first transferred to Groom Lake. I was lucky enough to be in a training exercise when I noticed."

Alvarez quickly returned to his seat and checked his own settings. "Thanks for reminding me. Wouldn't want to faceplant because it's set to power saving mode or something."

Satisfied with his check, Valentine sat on the display again. "That would be embarrassing. At least the default language is English in all the American-made models."

"By the way, which OS version are you using?" Alvarez asked.

"Six-point-four-point-one."

"Lucky bastard. Version five's targeting has been a steaming pile of shit since point-three. If I ever have to use ranged weapons, I'd rather have iron sights than this garbage."

"I heard V-five had some locked out features. You ever find out what's up with that?" Valentine asked.

"It's either the fixed version of the targeting system, or a kill everything within five miles button. Whatever it is, the brass thinks it's too powerful to be left in the hands of a 'maladjusted' former child soldier. Their words, not mine."

"Ha! Being a misfit is practically a job requirement. Cluster A, B and C personality disorders were common in many of the original candidates, and most of the others had symptoms show up due to the stresses of piloting. Don't even get me started on the weirdness of Manufactured brains," Valentine explained.

"I heard they're trying to mitigate it, but the going's slow because of how hard it is to find a shrink with the right security clearance," Alvarez commented.

Valentine sighed, letting out a breath of ripples that was the only indication of him breathing liquid. "Especially a Jungian shrink with a working knowledge of Territory Theory. They're the only ones who can even begin to understand what the hell is going on with Ego degradation."

"Gentlemen, what's your status?" Lawson asked over the comm.

"Elevators are about to start up. Topside in ten," Alvarez replied.

* * *

Back in the command center, an alarm sounded.

"Sir, we have a new contact! It's moving over the ocean towards old San Fran!" Montgomery exclaimed.

Everyone's eyes went wide.

Even Captain Metzger's expression changed slightly. "There has never been a double event before. At least not on the same continent. BosWash is only slightly further away from Vancouver than us, so we can call them in to handle that one."

Lawson frantically navigated through authentication screens to check the status of the east coast's main facility. "Negative, they're not going to have Units combat-ready for at least three days!"

Metzger's face almost showed concern. This was not a call to make lightly. "Damn it. We know that we need to prioritize the closest threat, so get our pilots on the way over there ASAP. Could have one loiter so they can be rerouted quickly if the threat in SF is low enough."

A confident, sophisticated voice came from behind them. "That won't be necessary, Captain."

The woman it belonged to was Colonel Ingrid Swan. She was slender and pale, looking surprisingly youthful for someone in their fifties with the exception of her bleached white hair pulled into a tight bun. Her cybernetic eyes surveyed the displays, the artificial blue irises rotating to zoom in and out. She wore the dark grey senior officer's uniform and her gloved hands rested on the railing separating the commander's level from the one below it.  
"Ma'am, with all due-"

She cut Metzger off with a hand motion. "Go to the Anchorage provisional facility, Captain. We have another pilot candidate in the vicinity, so acquire them as soon as possible. I've already routed our other available Units to the location."

The captain turned and wordlessly left the room, his coat waving as he walked quickly.

"Now then, we must delay the creature in Canada for as long as possible until the captain can assemble the second half of our element. Lieutenant, when is our next kinetic weapons satellite going to be in firing position?" Col. Swan asked.

"Fifteen minutes, with a five-minute window, ma'am," Ford answered.

"Excellent." The colonel sat down in her chair and steepled her fingers in front of her face. "Pull back any remaining conventional forces and evacuate the area. Have DREAM coordinate firing of the impactor with a cruise missile from our bomber, compensating for the overpressure wave."

Lawson looked through the readouts from the DREAM supercomputer. "It's really going to have to go into the thick of it, ma'am. Hitting fifteen seconds after detonation gives a probability of less than point-five percent. Anything after that and it's expected that the Archetype's AT field will have recovered."

"Simulate multiple simultaneous shots."

"That's actually worse, ma'am. Overpressure is likely to cause the rods to collide with each other," Lawson explained.

"These things barely have guidance once they hit atmosphere. Talk about threading the needle from across the room," Ford added.

"Then we draw its attention. Hit it with multiple conventional warheads prior to the A-two. Have it expect further attacks from that angle," Swan proposed.

* * *

The Warrior marched towards the mountains. It sensed the settlement of the lesser beings beyond. Those weak creatures bound to lesser states of existence, unable to establish anything more than a meager Territory. Their weapons were weak and inert, made from the same bland dirt that they lived on. Crushing this speck would bring no glory, but the great conqueror needed to make an example.

It sensed more arrows of metal and flammable dirt flying towards it. They would not be allowed inside the Absolute Territory.

The A2 warhead was an antimatter-catalyzed, aneutronic fusion device. Nerv's signature warhead, the W101, had a yield of 1.5 megatons achieved by using positrons to annihilate the electrons of a boron plasma while providing the energy required to initiate fusion, then bombarding it with protons. The boron bomb, as it was known, was a useful thermonuclear weapon due to the substantial reduction in both emitted radiation and subsequent radioactive fallout, even if detonated on the ground. One such device was currently mounted in the last AGM-202 cruise missile of the salvo.

The thermobaric warheads pelted the orange barrier first, exploding into relatively small fireballs. The knight sensed something different in the last missile coming at it, but simply maintained its protective field.

The A2 warhead detonated right in front of the barrier, changing shape from a missile to a glowing, expanding orb of destruction in less time than a human could perceive. Hypersonic plasma hit the orange octagon, flattening against it before breaking it into shards that were outshone by the brilliant explosion even before they faded into nothingness.

The Warrior was swallowed up by the miniature sun. For the milliseconds in which it discharged its strength, this object of lesser matter had wielded more power than the knight.

At the base of the gargantuan mushroom cloud, it felt fear for the first time.

It needed to restore its defense. It needed the Territory if it was going to survive another hit from that weapon.

The distraction had been enough to keep it from noticing the tungsten dart coming at it from the sky. Unlike the haphazard thermonuclear explosion, this was a precise weapon which struck the creature's great helm and shattered it into pieces.

* * *

Everyone in the command center watched intently as the drone came back into range and showed a view the blast site. When the smoke cleared, they saw what was left of the Archetype: a headless, blackened suit of armor on its knees, supporting itself with its arm blades. It looked almost as if it was supplicating, but everyone knew that it was far from dead.

Col. Swan relaxed in her chair. "That's one problem taken care of for the time being. Now, on to the second one."

"Last contact was a seismic reading in eastern San Francisco-two," Montgomery reported.

Lawson checked the status of the Units. "Transports are on-site, standing by for orders."

"Very well. Green light for deployment," Swan commanded.

"Shadow Units five-oh-two and six-oh-six cleared for drop! Good hunting, gentlemen!" Lawson announced.

* * *

In the rainy sky above San Francisco-2, the aerodynamic containers mounted under the flying wing transports opened up, releasing a pair of 80-meter tall armored humanoids. They were more slender than humans, with elongated demonic heads and rectangular pylons rising from their shoulders. The war machines tumbled gracefully through the air, falling half a kilometer before landing in a large open space. The pavement cracked as the force of several thousand tons of armored cyborgs suddenly came to a halt on it.

Unit 5-02, piloted by Alvarez, was unusually muscular even for a Shadow, and displayed a predatory grin of metal teeth that had been welded shut. It was painted in urban grey digicamo with black stripes resembling roads and a low-visibility USAF insignia on the right shoulder. In its right hand it held a langes messer - a straight-bladed, single-edged sword as long as the Unit's arm.

Valentine's Unit, 6-06, was a much leaner model, with every surface sleek and aerodynamic. Its armor was a glossy, metallic black with neon yellow highlights. The Shadow's eyes glowed with a dark orange light that pierced the pouring rain. It held a high-tech semiautomatic pistol in its right hand and a single-edged, clip-point combat knife in its left.

The two enormous cyborgs stood up from their crouched landing poses and walked over to a nearby building. The side of it slid down to reveal a pair of rolled-up cables which the Shadows took and plugged into their backs.

"Alright, we're running on local power. Preparing to move out," Alvarez said over the comm.

"Last seismic reading was under that skyscraper. Let's start there," Valentine suggested.

Lawson's voice came in over the comm. "Weapons free. Activate your Ultrathermics."

The Shadows pressed buttons on the guards of their melee weapons, causing the edges of the blades to glow red-hot and release clouds of steam as the rain hit them. The Units advanced along the extra-wide roads that ran between the city's office buildings, specifically designed for peak hour traffic as well as giant war machines.

The two Units approached and flanked the skyscraper, keeping their lines of fire clear as they raised their weapons. As soon as they were both next to it, the building shattered into a shower of glass and metal.

A row of curved blades lashed out from the cloud of dust, barely missing the biomechanical giants as they jumped back and out of melee range. The Archetype revealed itself - a snake-like creature with iridescent scales and a pair of red eyes on each side of its vertical jaw. The metallic blades were extensions of its spine, and it had another wicked blade where its tongue should be. It moved constantly through the air, gliding around in a swirl of colors that made it difficult to keep track of its head and tail.

"Tricky and maneuverable. Must be a Seeker-type," Alvarez commented as he brought his messer up into a high guard, keeping his left hand on the pommel.

"Slow is smooth..." Valentine brought up his gauss pistol and fired, sending a slug of iron and depleted uranium flying out of the barrel at Mach 11.

The Seeker's body flexed, letting the round fly through a gap between the blades and punch a hole in a mountain range outside the city. Valentine saw four stars of red light appear on its head as it charged up its counterattack. Unit 6-06 rolled to the side just in time to avoid the four beams fired from the Seeker's eyes.

"My turn!" His target's attention drawn elsewhere, Alvarez charged in and thrust his blade at the Archetype, leaving a smoldering trail along its underbelly. The Seeker hissed and whipped around Unit 5-02, slicing through the cable connected to the Shadow's back using its bladed tongue.

Alarm tones sounded and red lights flashed in Alvarez' plug as a power indicator appeared. The pilot's mind raced. _Thirty seconds. Run and get a new umbilical, or finish the fight here?_

The moment of predictable motion after Seeker's attack was all that Valentine needed. He let off another round, and this time it hit the burn mark left by Alvarez, shredding the creature's body and sending pieces of ribcage flying out of the gaping exit wound, along with a spray of red blood.

Alvarez spun around, catching the Seeker with the flat of his red-hot messer and knocking it to the ground. Without missing a beat, the snake coiled around Unit 5-02's legs and tore through the armor with its dorsal blades, severing muscles and cracking bones.

The pilot cried out as he felt the pain of the Shadow's injuries in his own kneecaps, then retaliated by pressing his superheated blade against the creature, sending smoke hissing from its scales until it let go of him and darted away.

The Seeker charged at Valentine, who fired off a wide shot before it flew around his Unit. He spun around after it as he slashed with his knife, keeping the snake at bay but failing to land a hit.

Unit 5-02 limped towards the fight, using its deactivated sword as a crutch. _Twenty Seconds..._ Alvarez gritted his teeth, keeping his focus through the pain, the noise and the flashing lights.

In his pirouette, Valentine had managed to get his umbilical cable wrapped around the body of his Unit, not severely hampering his mobility, but leaving it wide open for the Seeker, which closed in to strike with its tongue blade...

The snake's wicked tongue stopped less than a meter from the cable, with Valentine's knife stuck in the creature's head. "Smooth is fast!" the pilot called out. With the press of a button on the knife's guard, the blade heated up beyond safe operating temperature, melting through the Seeker's metallic tongue until it dropped free of its mouth.

The impaled Archetype continued to writhe, forcing Unit 6-06 to hold it at arm's length to avoid behind slashed by the dorsal blades. "Alvarez! Finish it!" Valentine shouted as he pinned the Seeker to the ground by its head.

Reactivating his sword, Alvarez pulled it from the pavement and plunged it into the Seeker's body, hitting the Core as the struggling snake's bladed tail lodged itself in Unit 5-02's side.

The Core began to glow as the Seeker finally expired. Unit 6-06 pushed 5-02 away, ripping it free of the creature's tail. Valentine raised his Unit's AT Field just in time to shield the two Shadows from the Archetype's explosive death throes. A column of fire rose high above the skyscrapers, with two lines bursting out to give it a cross shape.

As the roar of the explosion faded, only the sound of rain filled the silence as the two titans stood victorious. With Unit 5-02 out of power, Ignacio Alvarez was content to sit in the darkness of the entry plug, relaxing as the pain he had felt through the neural link started to fade.

The calm was broken by Col. Swan's voice coming in over the comm, which ran on its own power supply. "It seems congratulations are in order, gentlemen. Our sensors indicate that the target was completely destroyed. Due to the... uncomfortable external environment, I would suggest that both of you stay inside your plugs until the recovery team arrives." As she spoke, the pilots heard the bridge crew cheering in the background.

"Understood, ma'am. Five-oh-two is pretty beat up, but I'm still operational in case you want six-oh-six providing support in Canada," Valentine explained as he sat in his fully-lit plug, looking at a video feed of the colonel on a holographic screen projected in mid-breathable-liquid.

"That won't be necessary, Lieutenant. I am certain that the second team of this element will be quite capable of handling the weakened Archetype," Swan replied.

Another screen appeared next to the colonel's, displaying Lawson's face. "Good job, guys. The VTOLs should be there in a few minutes to take you back to Vegas. You earned some R&R, so feel free to unwind tonight."

* * *

Throughout San Francisco-2's underground bunkers, the speakers played a pre-recorded message:

"This is an announcement from Nerv emergency services. It is now safe to leave this shelter. Please exit at the indicated egress points in an orderly fashion."

At certain intervals, the repeating message was interrupted to play another one:

"Due to damage to the water supply network, residents of buildings dependent on the public water grid are advised avoid drinking or washing skin with tap water. Repairs are underway and will be completed as soon as possible."

Many of the evacuees grumbled, but were thankful for the warning. Better to rely on bottled water and cleaning wipes than to accidentally drink traces of the red contaminant in the rainwater.

The underground streets around the destroyed building were cordoned off as emergency workers in HAZMAT suits hurried to seal off any remaining leaks and decontaminate the area. It had been a hotel and nightlife hotspot, so it was already mostly empty when the call to evacuate came in.

The expected dip in tourism was of little concern to Nerv. The organization considered the destruction of a single major building and relatively minor damage to utilities to be acceptable losses in the war against an inhuman foe.


	3. Lovely Angels

Chapter 3: Lovely Angels / Falling into the Cockpit

While the Hawaiian islands had been devastated by the waves of Second Impact, the Honolulu-2 Arcoplex stood as an exemplar of humanity's efforts to rebuild. It was further inland than the old city, with arcoblocks built like giant sporting stadiums with opening roofs. The interiors mostly consisted of resorts incorporating artificial beaches with filtered (but not desalinated) water to replicate the experience of the old Hawaii.

The USS _Girard A. Ryan_ and its associated carrier strike group maintained a patrolling formation near the island. While the early 2000s-era United States Navy forces were officially surrendered to the UN as part of the Valentine Treaty, there was no provision barring the country from building up a new fleet to defend itself. Named after the late president who was instrumental in guiding North America through the chaos of the Impact Wars, the _Ryan_ was the lead ship of its class.

The Pearl Harbor naval base had been built up significantly since Second Impact, serving as a port for US and UN forces as well as a provisional facility for aquatic Shadow operations. Two dark blue Units were crouched on one of the docking platforms. Unlike the slender land-based Shadows, these ones had bulky torsos to house water-cooled internal reactors, as well as large turbines mounted on their shoulder pylons and legs for underwater propulsion.

A Nerv transport VTOL approached the island from the northeast and began to circle the airport between Pearl Harbor and Honolulu-2. After a few minutes, it banked toward the city, flying at full speed.

* * *

A trio of young women lounged on beach towels inside one of the open resort domes, soaking in the midday sun. They were well-tanned and wore sunglasses along with string bikinis that showed off enough skin to get at least a momentary glance from passing men. When those men were sufficiently attractive, they'd get a smile back.

"Hey, Regina. Your phone's vibrating," The bleach-blonde said to the brunette.

The black-haired girl on her other side giggled. "Could be that guy you met last night."

"Eww. No." Regina scrunched her face up.

"He had, like, the best body," the blonde recounted.

The two girls turned to her. "Come on, Trish! You say that about every semi-hot guy!"

"At least I actually check their face too, Rita!"

The black-haired girl looked away. "It was one time! Besides, those scars meant he was a fighter. I think that's kinda hot."

"Yeah." Regina giggled. "A tent city gladiator."

"So, that guy you were hitting on looked like he was a soldier or something," Rita said.

"He was a jarhead. My uncle had the same haircut and attitude," Trish pointed out.

"I don't care what he was. As soon as I tried to hook up with him, he went full retard," Regina explained.

"You think it's like that PTSD thing?" Rita asked.

"Or he was just a virgin and, like, freaked out or something," Trish speculated.

"Whatever. Phone's vibrating again." Regina reached into her bag and retrieved the phone, checking her messages.

"So, what is it?" the two girls asked.

"Sweet! Test results came back positive!" Regina exclaimed.

"That does not sound like a good thing," Rita commented.

Trish ran through some quick math in her head. "That's impossible. You haven't slept with anyone in, like, four months now. I heard some infections can have delayed symptoms, though."

"No! Not that sort of thing!" Regina was blushing bright red. "I'm sync-positive. It's this really cool brain thing that Nerv does a scan for."

"Nerv? Like, with the giant robots?" Trish asked.

Regina waved her hand in a dismissive manner. "Don't be silly, Trish. They get military-trained professionals to pilot those."

"What if that marine guy was one of them?" Rita wondered.

"Getting his brain fried by being inside a giant killer robot would explain why he thought making an unmoving duckface counts as kissing technique," Regina joked, sending the other girls into a giggling fit.

Suddenly, the roar of jet engines filled the air. The girls looked up to see a grey and red Nerv VTOL entering the open roof. The aircraft descended onto a concrete-floored plaza next to the beach, kicking up a sandstorm as it touched down.

Regina's hair whipped around in the wind as she shielded her face from the onslaught of sand. The rear ramp of the VTOL came down, revealing a pair of older men. One had a full head of brown hair and the same dark brown eyes as Regina. He wore an immaculate champagne-colored suit with a pale blue dress shirt and brown leather dress shoes. The other was clad in a dark grey Nerv uniform and showed his age more, with a wrinkled face, buzzed grey hair and stern grey eyes.

"Miss Stanford! Please come with us!" the Nerv man shouted over the whine of the turbines.

"Dad! What's going on?" Regina asked, standing up shakily.

"There's no time to explain, sweetie! I need you to trust me!" Mr. Stanford urged.

The girl realized the reason behind this. "Is this about the test?"

"I'll tell you everything on the way! Just come with me!" her father shouted.

"On the way to where?"

"Somewhere you're very underdressed for!" the officer yelled.

"Story of my life," Regina said to herself as she ran over to the VTOL. The ramp closed the moment she got inside and the aircraft took off, leaving the other beachgoers covered in sand and very confused.

* * *

After entering the rear cargo hold, Regina went into the passenger cabin through a pressure door. The cabin interior was reminiscent of a business jet, but this was clearly an aftermarket feature, along with the pressurized divider that separated it from the bare-bones military style of the cargo hold. She sat down and strapped herself in at a table opposite her father as the VTOL took off.

As soon as they were flying level, the businessman went to the minibar and poured himself a generous amount of Scotch.

"Easy on that, Theodore," the Nerv officer cautioned.

Theodore Stanford took a long sip, then gestured to the officer with his glass. "Regina, meet Lieutenant Colonel Bertram Fuller."

Lt. Col. Fuller offered a hand, and Regina gave a firm shake. "You're with Nerv, right?" the girl asked.

"Correct. And what have you heard about us?"

"Just the public information. Protecting humanity against... something by using giant robots-"

 _Cyborgs._ The officer reflexively cleared his throat, but contained his urge to make the correction out loud.

"Anyway, why do you guys want me?"

"It's because of your test results, sweetie. I don't quite get it myself, but the r-... cyborgs can only be piloted by people with a specific mental pattern that manifests in people born after Second Impact," Theodore explained.

While Regina was hardly the best academic, she was excellent at reading people. When her father made the correction himself, Fuller's irritation with her terminology became apparent.

 _Those things. They're alive? There's... something under that armor?_

"Sweetie?" Her father's voice seemed quieter.

 _They want me to pilot one? Get inside it?_

"Look at me, are you alright?" The ringing got louder.

 _They said I need to have a mental pattern. Does it plug into my brain? Is it gross? Does it require surgery? Does it hurt? Will I hear its thoughts? Does it even have thoughts?_

"She's hyperventilating." Fuller's voice was barely audible.

 _If I back out, will they just take some other girl my age and make her do it? Or is one of them unique to me? Will it recognize me? Did they train other pilots from birth? Do I have to do it because they all died? I don't want to die, at least not in some freaky cyborg monster!_

"I won't get in it. I'm not going to pilot one of those... things," she whimpered. The pain under her eyes finally registered, and she pulled her fingers away from her cheeks, leaving imprints from where she had dug her fingernails into the skin.

Theodore tried to give a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, Regina. It's perfectly safe."

The lieutenant colonel's face remained neutral. "This is why we avoid correcting people who don't have the proper security clearance. They assume the worst."

The businessman continued his emotional appeal to his daughter. "Look, it's going to be scary at first, but you can do it. You're special, sweetie, like I always told you."

"The piloting process itself is quite comfortable. Almost like playing a video game," Fuller added.

Regina started to perk up again. "R-really? I guess I freaked out over nothing. So, where are these things uh... parked?"

* * *

Electronic beats blasted in the dark room, almost drowning out the constant sound of keystrokes. The light of a monitor was reflected in Matrix-green eyes that were scanning lines of code displayed on it. The hacker paused to tuck a loose strand of wavy blonde hair behind her ear, then put her pale fingers back on the keys.

"Come on, show me a vulnerable node," she said with a hint of a Russian accent.

She opened another window and typed more commands, showing a video display.

"Hmm. I can get into current camera feeds. Looks like cleanup is underway. Footprints everywhere, but no mechs. DREAM must've cut the crypto here as soon as there's nothing to see. The servers storing those recordings, on the other hand..."

After a few more keystrokes and an old exploit, she was in.

"Stored data from that time is encrypted. Makes sense, but it also makes it glaringly obvious compared to day-to-day recordings. I'll grab it just in case I end up getting a key or something later."

A warning flashed at the bottom of her monitor.

\- PERIMETER BREACH -

"Fuck!" She quickly closed all the windows on her screen, leaving the fake code windows of her wallpaper showing. Without missing a beat, she grabbed her pillow and put it where she was seated, along with a blonde wig resembling her mid-back length hair.

With the decoy set up, she pressed herself against the wall next to the front door of her studio apartment. In one hand, she held a folding knife. In the other, a smartphone that showed several camera feeds from outside her apartment.

Several masked men, dressed in street clothes and carrying assault rifles with wooden furniture, stalked down the hallway. Without warning, suppressed gunshots came from outside the building, cutting the intruders down before they had a chance to realize what was going on.

The hacker ducked instinctively, then switched her phone to a camera feed of the exterior wall. Surely enough, there was a man hanging from a rappelling line and holding a pair of SIG Sauer MPX submachine guns. He wore a trench coat and sunglasses, and had parted brown hair.

"Fucking wallhax Neo." She pocketed her knife, went over to the window, pulled up the blinds and opened it to shout outside and gesture angrily. "Hey, wallhax fucker! Get in here before you embarrass me!"

"How did you know I wouldn't shoot you?" the deep-voiced man asked as he climbed inside and unclipped his harness.

"Figured you're here with Nerv. Also, if you wanted to, you'd just use that cheap wallhax trick again," the blonde explained.

"Doesn't come cheap." He pulled down his shades, revealing red cybereyes. "I'm Captain Roland Metzger."

"Kasparova, Nadezhda Mikhailovna. My friends call me Nadya. I'd rather not shake, in case your grip is augmented."

Metzger didn't laugh. "No time for that anyway. I need to bring you in."

"Is this about that datasteal? Or the DDOS? Was it the power words I shared on the deep web?" Nadya asked with a smirk. "I can give you free long distance, but it's trickier than playing a harmonica at a phone these days."

"No, Miss Kasparova. Nerv needs your assistance. That said, if you refuse to comply, I can detain you indefinitely under the Nerv Security Act of oh-five for breaching our VPN last year," Metzger explained.

"Alright, fine. Let me get my gear." Nadya went over to her wardrobe and threw on a blue-lined black leather duster over her black T-shirt with green code. She then tucked her tight leather pants into her combat boots and belted them up. Grabbing a shoulder bag, she unplugged her external drives and stuffed them inside, along with a laptop. "Can your dudes send the rest to wherever I'll be working?" she asked, taking a look around and checking for other essential items. Finally, she put on her own pair of mirrorshades before heading out the door.

"I'll send someone," Metzger replied.

* * *

Nadya hated being in public, but riding the monorail through the Anchorage dome with a fellow longcoat-clad cyberpunk was admittedly pretty schway. Rain washed down the sides of the glass constantly, making it necessary to artificially light the streets all day and adding to the futuristic noir atmosphere. The pair stepped out of the elevated train near the local Nerv branch, then took a funicular to the underground provisional facility, which mostly resembled the one in Vegas.

"Wow, this place could hold an entire original Xbox." Nadya commented as she entered the expansive hangar. "So, where is my workstation gonna be?"

"We didn't come to you for your hacking skills, Miss Kasparova," Metzger pointed out.

The hacker's eyes went wide. "Fuck me sideways. You want me to pilot a mech?"

"It's called a Shadow Cybernetic Humanoid Combat Unit," Metzger corrected. "I'll leave you in the ready room with a manual on it. Get familiar with its workings while the techs prepare for synchronization testing."

"Should've given it a name that spells out S-C-H-W-A-Y because that's how fucking epic those things are," Nadya joked.

* * *

Regina entered the ready room, shivering and trying to keep herself covered with her father's suit jacket. Nadya was sitting on a couch that faced the entrance while she watched her laptop. The hacker looked up from her screen and laughed.

"Hey, looks like we have a fanservice character!"

"I was taken from a beach, okay?" Regina huffed as she sat down opposite Nadya, folding her arms to keep the jacket closed.

"Wow, that's a tough break. I'm Nadya, by the way."

"I'm Regina. Are they, like, making you pilot the cyborg too?"

Nadya gave a confused look. "Pilot Metzger? I didn't even know he had a remote control option."

"Who is Metzger?" Regina asked, now similarly befuddled.

"Cyborg dude." Nadya paused, then realized the intended meaning. "Oh wait, you mean the mech?"

"Yeah. And there's a human cyborg too? Is he scary?"

"He's a trench coat-wearing dude who shoots people using wallhax. I'd say he's pretty schway, but most people would be scared when they see him for the first time."

"What's that mean?"

"Wallhax?"

"No, the other thing... but that one too."

"Schway? It's another word for cool or fashionable or high-tech. And wallhax is when you see people through walls and shoot them," Nadya explained.

"I think I get it. Anyway, what do you like to do in your free time?" Regina tried to steer the topic toward something more comprehensible to her.

"I'm a hacker. Remember when a bunch of media companies went full clickbait in the mid-tens?" Getting a nod, Nadya continued. "Suddenly, all their native ads got wiped, and the sidebar ads failed to display, leading to massive losses. When they were forced to go public, the stock exchange crashed due to a zero-day exploit in the system clock, leading to the share prices dropping even further. That was all me."

"Oh, cool! My dad was the one who bought them out on the cheap and had all their sites renovated into something more, like, professional. He's Chairman of the Stanford Media Group."

"You're that Regina Stanford? Now it all makes sense. Nerv's personal PR firm must be pulling some serious strings."

"Hey, I never asked for this!" Regina complained, eliciting a chuckle from Nadya.

"Fortunately for you, I managed to pull up video of the last fight by hacking into this base's network," Nadya said as she turned the laptop around. "Watch how the pros do it."

"I'm not sure why you think they're pros. Camo guy got beat up pretty bad, and bee guy almost got tangled up in his own tail," Regina commented as she watched.

"Watch it again. Look at the stances and footwork. Also, I think tactical sword dude is the designated tank, which is why his mech has a stronger build. Notice how Human Revolution drew aggro when he saw that his buddy was in trouble, then baited the monster into attacking a predictable point," Nadya explained.

"I guess that makes sense. Brrr, it's hard to think when I'm so cold." Regina shivered and rubbed her bare legs. "They told me I'd get a change of clothes. Any idea when that's gonna happen?"

"It'll probably be a piloting suit of some kind, so out of the cold, into the giant cyborg death machine," Nadya teased.

Regina pulled up her knees and tried to hug them inside the jacket. "How can you be so calm about this?"

"I'm Russian. Things stop freaking us out after having to fight bear for third time in month," Nadya joked, emphasizing her accent.

Regina giggled. "Really? Your life is this crazy every day?"

"Pretty much. Earlier today I had to fight off a squad of Chinese internet assassins sent by a rival hacker. Metzger helped, but I would've been fine by myself."

"Why am I getting the feeling that piloting those things is meant for people who don't have a normal life?"

A cheery female voice from the entrance to the ready room interrupted them. "Hey, girls. It's time to suit up. Changing room is across the hall."

The two new arrivals turned to see Lt. Lawson entering the room with a pair of colorful garments hanging over her arm. She handed one to each of them, smiling and mouthing "good luck" before leaving.

"When I asked for some new clothes, this wasn't what I had in mind," Regina said as she held up the latex-like material.

"Sorry, only fanservice outfits for you from now on," Nadya replied as she went to change.

* * *

"How can you be okay with wearing that thing?" Regina asked as she exited the changing room, holding up her sagging silver and orange plugsuit to keep her body covered.

"For starters, it's cyberpunk as fuck. And it shows off my curves rather well, don't you think?" Nadya posed in the dark purple and navy blue suit, showing off her slender yet busty body. The female plugsuits lacked the prominent chest pieces of the male ones, having a pair of rib-like structures under the breasts instead. They were also more dominated by one color, with only small shoulder stripes, the inner sides of the arms and the front sections of the rib structures displaying the secondary colors.

"How come yours fits so well?"

"Well, they probably got my measurements by looking at who bought clothes in Anchorage using cryptocurrency. I guess I was the only one taking advantage of the anonymity, which actually made it more obvious," Nadya speculated. "As for getting it skin-tight, come here." She grabbed the other girl's hand and pressed a button on the hexagonal wrist cuff.

"Oh! That feels wrong!" Regina squirmed and grasped at the sides of her suit as it hugged her model-thin physique.

"Just be thankful that it doesn't have an integrated corset or something. Then again, the manual said that the suit can be tightened to restrict blood flow to injury sites. I'm sure I could reverse-engineer that feature to provide some extra pinch or lift," Nadya suggested.

Regina blushed. "Hey! It's not like I'm going to be hooking up in this outfit or anything. It's so not my style."

"It is, however, time for you to be piloting in it," Metzger said, looking into the hallway from the hangar.

The two new pilots followed him into the hangar, rode an elevator up to the Shadows' chest level and entered the first cage.

Unit 3-07 was a bulky shadow with a metallic silver and high-visibility orange paint job. In addition to the heavy armor, its torso was made thicker by housing a pair of internal A2 reactors.

"Stanford, this is your Unit. It's a field type - designed to work on internal power instead of relying on an umbilical cable. It's powered by a pair of antimatter-catalyzed proton-boron fusion reactors, with electricity being obtained by direct conversion, minimizing the moving parts involved," Metzger explained.

Regina cocked her head to the side. "Shouldn't the science geek have the fancy science machine?"

"It's the ideal newcomer machine since you don't need to worry about cable management. Also, the synchronization circuits are a new design that should give higher sync ratios for inexperienced pilots, and the targeting system includes assisted aiming."

"Giving the newb an aimbot. Sounds about right," Nadya commented.

"Hey! You're a newb too!" Regina responded.

"I used to play FPS games professionally, and I'm a good shot with a Mosin-Nagant IRL," Nadya boasted.

Metzger motioned for them to enter the next cage. "That, Kasparova, is why you're getting Unit four-oh-four, a sniper type."

The hacker followed him, coming face-to-face with the Shadow. "Schway. As. Fuck," she whispered as she stared at the dark purple Unit with navy blue accents. The right shoulder pylon had been modified into a folded-up robotic armature, and the Shadow sported a straight horn rising up from its forehead.

"The Sniper type features a specialized support system for a long-ranged weapon, giving it a hardwired connection to the firing controls. We've also fine-tuned the neural control circuits, providing a more responsive Unit. The horned head armor is popular for its aesthetics, but should actually serve a purpose here, allowing you to steady a scope against it." The captain fished around in the pocket of his coat and produced two pairs of the high-tech hairclips. "Take these and put them on. For most pilots, the best synchronization comes when wearing them above the motor cortex, but you can try out other positions when we're doing more in-depth sync testing later."

"Huh, Nerv sure knows how to accessorize," Regina snarked as she put on the interface clips a fair bit further back than the motor cortex would be, essentially using them to keep her hair away from her face.

"I figured this would require jacking in or something," Nadya pointed out while fiddling to get the clips lined up properly.

"First generation interface hardware was implanted inside the skull, while the second generation resembled an EEG setup. Fortunately for the two of you, the third generation is the most convenient for pilots with long hair." Metzger finished his explanation and looked away, touching his ear. "Lawson, get the entry plugs ready. I'll join you in the CIC momentarily.

The lieutenant's voice came over the PA. "Attention pilots! Please proceed to the backs of your Units via the walkways and enter the capsule-shaped entry plugs."

"Maximum fucking hype!" Nadya exclaimed as she walked around her Unit.

"Here goes nothing," Regina whispered as she went to the back of her Unit's cage.


	4. Stare Death in the Face

Chapter 4: Stare Death in the Face / Mustn't Run Away

Blackened sabatons sank into the river with each step. Rough-edged black blades dragged through the mountains on either side. The charred knight marched through one of the valleys leading to its next conquest, its destroyed head had regenerated differently, becoming a skull-like visage with glowing red eyes and a permanent bloodthirsty grin of exposed teeth.

A 105mm shell exploded against its AT Field, followed by a hail of smaller rounds. The AC-130U circled above the Warrior, raining flares and generally trying to be as noticeable as possible.

* * *

The Anchorage facility's CIC resembled a classic war room, as opposed to the awe-inspiring command tower of the Vegas Complex.

"It barely notices. Not surprising considering the largest thing on the Spooky is half the caliber of the weakest Shadow firearm ever put into production," Metzger commented as he watched the wall-mounted screen.

Lawson sat next to him at the big table, typing on her laptop. "It'll have to do. The sync process is about to start, and then there's still a two hour flight to Vancouver."

"How are they doing?" Metzger asked.

"They're looking comfortable so far. Time to immerse them." The lieutenant pressed a key, confirming the LCL pumping process.

* * *

Regina noticed the orange fluid pooling at the bottom of her plug. "Hello? I think something in my Unit is, like, leaking?"

"You mean the Tang? Mine's got it too," Nadya responded over the comm.

"Uhh... It keeps rising." Regina started to shift upwards in her seat.

Nadya dipped her finger in it and gave it a lick. "Bleh. Tastes like blood."

"Cant... get... much... higher..." Regina struggled to keep her head about the liquid.

Lawson's voice came in over the comm. "It's breathable liquid. You're supposed to take it into your lungs."

Nadya emptied her lungs and took in a breath of LCL. "Weird, but schway," she commented, testing out her ability to talk while submerged.

Regina held her breath as the plug was filled completely, but eventually had to take in the liquid, coughing as the last air bubbles were freed from her lungs.

"First contact successful. Beginning Second contact," a technician announced.

The LCL in the plugs became clear as an electric current ran through it. The displays that lined the walls began to produce various patterns as diagnostics were underway. The color cycles melted away to display the Shadows' points of view.

Lawson checked her screen. "Contacts look good. Operating language is English by default. Unit three-oh-seven's sync is forty-five percent with a five percent fluctuation. Four-oh-four's is forty-two percent, holding steady. Alright, three-oh-seven is stabilizing towards fifty."

The pilots began to feel very tall and somewhat disoriented as the Shadows' sensations were layered over their own.

Lawson continued to go through standard checks. "Plugsuits are transmitting vitals as stable. Harmonics: nominal, LCL composition: nominal, neural feedback buffers: nominal."

"Can we give them a chance to test out their weapons?" Metzger asked.

"That's a negative, Captain. Because it was last minute, each gun only shipped with one full mag. I've called in supply drops from HQ, so at least they'll have reloads during the fight," Lawson explained.

Metzger gave the hint of a smirk. "So they'll use a living Archetype for target practice. Sounds like we've gone back to when this all started five years ago."

A readout changed on Lawson's screen, making her raise an eyebrow. "What? Unit four-oh-four's IFF just went off, and came back on as... what is that?"

"Rusalka. It's a Russian fairytale creature, similar to a siren or mermaid." Metzger pushed the button to talk to the pilots. "Kasparova, why did you rename your Unit?"

"I was messing with the settings. Figured I'd enter my old handle as the callsign," Nadya responded as she tapped the buttons on the full-hand trigger guards. "I'll get the Unit number in front of it again. Heh, four-oh-four: Rusalka not found."

"We're going to load you up for transport to Vancouver now. Since neither of you are drop-trained, we'll try to set you down smoothly. The flight should take two hours, during which time you will be able to review documentation pertaining to the operation of your Units and their weapons," Metzger announced.

Nadya looked over the weapon manuals immediately, pulling up the statistics and accompanying holographic images. Unit 4-04 was issued with the EM-7 gauss rifle - a sleek bullpup design with a 12-round single-stack magazine. The low capacity was due to the need to integrate the weapon's power supply, allowing reloads to replenish both the ammunition and the electric charge required to propel it. Its destructive power was impressive, as it fired 440mm Fe-DU rounds at 5000m/s.

 _That's roughly the equivalent of a ten-millimeter round, if we're scaling to human sizes._ Nadya calculated in her head.

Additionally, since it was hardwired to the Type 4 stability augmentation frame, the feed from the rifle's scope could be displayed directly in the pilot's view.

 _That's a useful feature. I wonder what other kinds of sights are available._

She also checked out the standard-issue ultrathermic combat knife. It worked by using a Territory-conductive C-alloy to tap existing AT Fields for both heating energy and structural reinforcement, allowing it to heat up to temperatures that would melt tungsten while retaining the strength and cutting edge of carbon steel. In addition, this process would drain the AT Field of a struck target, making it easier to penetrate. The only downside of the ultrathermic weapon design was that the self-reinforcing property would stop scaling with the heating after a certain point, causing the weapon to overheat and potentially melt itself if used beyond safe operating limits.

 _Doesn't seem like my Unit's made for melee, but I'll keep it around just in case._

Regina waited until she was in the air to look through her weapons. She glossed over the knife and went to the EM-5 ultrathermic flechette rifle. Like the ultrathermic combat knife, it used Territory-conductive materials to achieve enhanced AT penetration. However, this was a boxy rail rifle that fired 550mm saboted darts at 1500m/s. Due to the size of its ammunition and associated power pack, it could only hold four rounds in the magazine. Additionally, the effective range was limited to two kilometers due to the flechettes' tendency to partially melt in flight and spin out of control.

 _Great. Give the inaccurate gun with four shots to the girl with no training. Don't they have something with, like, a hundred shots? Why couldn't I have that instead?_ Regina sighed and got out of her seat, finding it uncomfortable to stay bent over when the Shadow was in flight position.

* * *

Unlike most coastal cities, Vancouver and its surrounding urban areas were able to be partially reclaimed instead of needing to be rebuilt further inland. Combined with the Canadians' tendency to rebuild piece by piece as the need arose, this meant that there were several islands still covered in defunct buildings from the pre-Impact days. The inhabited islands, on the other hand, were built-up with interconnected buildings and underwater tunnels to allow for transit between the islands without inhibiting maritime traffic.

The two flying wing transports banked over the city, heading toward the Maple Ridge vertical farm complex.

"Five minutes to drop, pilots. The green towers are the first major asset in the Archetype's path, so we'll set you down in front of them. Transport planes with ammunition will drop it on your request. I'm also working on getting a cable set up for Kasparova's Unit," Metzger informed.

"Shit! I'm not ready!" Regina shouted as she scrambled up from the bottom of her plug to get into the seat.

"Don't worry, Reg. Your body is ready," Nadya joked.

"It's literally not!" Regina responded, jumping into her seat. "I need a seatbelt!"

"The back of the seat features magnetic attachment points for the plugsuit. Activate them from the menu," Metzger instructed.

"The older models used the central display as a restraint if pulled up, but most pilots found it uncomfortable. Even now, experienced pilots tend to avoid using the mag locks, or only use the ones on the legs so their body isn't stuck in the seat," Lawson added.

The transports flew lower and slower than usual, releasing the Shadows from their aerodynamic containers over an old field that was left over from the days of flat agriculture. Both Units came down hard, tumbling along the ground as they landed.

"Oww. Anything broken?" Regina groaned as Unit 3-07 stood up and retrieved its rifle from the separately dropped weapon container.

"Not on my end. Hell of a trip down, though." Nadya checked Unit 4-04's calibration. The Type 4 stability augmentation frame held her EM-7 by its stock and forearm, allowing 4-04 to hold it steady using only its right hand. In its left, it held the combat knife, fitting with Nadya's gaming preference for having a dedicated melee option available at all times. She proceeded to the vertical farms, finding a pair of umbilical cables and plugging one in. "External power is go. Switching to combat mode."

"How do I turn the safety off on this thing?" Regina asked, fiddling with the flechette rifle while keeping her finger on the trigger.

"Don't shoot yourself in the foot, for starters," Nadya responded. "Point it away from civilization, keep your trigger finger outside the guard, and now you can flip the ambidextrous lever on the side from the white icon to the red."

The rain had eased to an occasional drizzle, giving the Nerv forces above-average visibility for a coastal North American deployment. The Warrior emerged from behind a mountain ten kilometers north of the hydroponic towers, with only rolling hills and open fields separating it from the Shadows.

Seeing a pair of worthy opponents, the knight launched into a sprint, its eyes glowing with a hunger for combat. The bladed arms swung limply behind its body as it bounced with each step.

Unit 4-04 brought up its rifle, took aim and fired a shot. There was a thunderclap as the hypersonic slug went downrange and shattered against the AT Field.

"Negative damage," Lawson reported.

"Let's try some strats." Nadya took aim again and fired another shot at the exact same spot, achieving exactly the same result as the Archetype continued to charge.

"It's getting closer..." Regina whimpered.

Nadya breathed out slowly and squeezed the trigger, firing a third slug. The Warrior had expected another shot at its shoulder, and was slow to re-angle the AT Field to block a headshot. The iron-uranium projectile scored its left temple, leaving a scar-like indentation in the metallic skull.

The knight was barely even staggered as it continued to advance, deflecting three more rounds from the gauss rifle before charging at Unit 3-07.

Regina yelped as she fired the ultrathermic railgun. The red-hot flechette flew toward the Warrior, but lost most of its energy piercing the AT Field, leaving barely enough to glance off the blackened armor. Nadya continued to pepper the orange barrier with hypersonic slugs, but to no avail.

As the Archetype reached Regina's Unit, it roared, opening its skeletal maw to reveal an abyssal darkness. It proceeded to drag the tip of one of its blades through the ground, kicking up stones and mud before hitting 3-07's leg. Shards of silver armor were flung across the field, along with a spray of blood.

The girl inside the war machine screamed as she felt a pain like nothing she had ever known.

"Left femur damaged! Sync ratio rising to fifty-five!" Lawson exclaimed.

The Warrior looked into its foe's eyes. The skull's permanently exposed grin burned itself into the pilot's mind as it tore its weapon from the wound, freeing a chunk of bone.

"Left leg functionality is compromised! Sync is up to sixty!"

Metzger leaned in as he watched the fight on the screen. "Impressive, Stanford. Just don't lose your cool."

Nadya could only stare at the carnage. Her trigger finger kept pulling but the magazine was empty. Regina was on the verge of panic as the pain threatened to overwhelm her.

The knight brought up its left blade to decapitate the Unit, but 3-07 reflexively blocked with its right arm, deflecting it up over its head and sending the Archetype off-balance.

"Oww... Argh... Everything hurts!" Regina wailed.

"Your sync is at sixty-five. You're feeling the Unit's injuries more accurately than usual," Metzger explained. "Get back before it can attack again. Kasparova, try to draw its attention."

As Unit 3-07 limped away, the hacker steeled herself. Holding the knife in a reverse grip, she charged at the Warrior. Predictably, it took a swing at her head, which 4-04 avoided by sliding under the arm blade. As it slid past, the Shadow lodged its ultrathermic knife in the back of the knight's knee.

The Archetype roared in pain as it knelt, supporting itself with its blades. Deprived of the use of its main weapons, it spun around and snapped at the floored Unit with its shining teeth. Nadya rolled out of the way just in time, but it managed to catch 4-04's cable in its jaws...

"Oh shit!" Nadya looked at the 30-second timer that appeared. The remains of the cable still attached to the Unit were ejected onto the ground, using thrusters on the end to soften the landing. Without missing a beat, she disengaged from the fight and went to resupply.

The pain in Regina's leg had faded slightly. She was done running. Aiming through the assisted targeting display, she fired off a pair of flechettes which pierced the Warrior's armor and lodged themselves in its left bicep, making it difficult to swing that arm's blade.

The Warrior barrelled towards 3-07 on all fours, knocking it to the ground with a shoulder rush. The Unit tumbled backwards but held on to its weapon. Regina struggled to find her bearings before the monster could press its advantage.

"Hey, asshole! I'm back!" Nadya shouted as she fired her reloaded EM-7. The burst hit the weakened left arm, blowing it off entirely. The arm blade spun through the air before lodging itself in the muddy field.

"Die already!" Regina yelled as she fired her last shot. The flechette bored through the Warrior's body and sprayed a shower of molten C-alloy from the smoldering exit wound.

With only one arm and one good leg left, the Warrior raised its AT Field at full power to block 4-04's shots as it dragged itself towards 3-07.

"Uh... I need a reload, like, right now!" Regina shouted as she scrambled away from the Archetype, with her Unit still on its back.

A container dropped from the sky, deploying a parachute to slow it down as it landed next to Unit 3-07. Regina managed to grab the new magazine and started fiddling with her gun to insert it.

"Look out!" everyone else simultaneously shouted.

The Warrior used its remaining strength to bear down on the Shadow. Regina brought up the rifle, but it was batted away by the remaining arm blade, which then lodged into the ground as the Archetype landed on top of her and bit into the Unit's abdomen, tearing off a segment of armor with its jaws.

The pilot's scream flooded the comms.

"Neural activity spike! Sync ratio is up to seventy-five!" Sweat dripped down Lawson's face as she struggled to keep up with the readouts. "Levelling off... Dropping... Pilot is unresponsive!"

"Eject the plug!" Metzger ordered.

"I can't! It would just go straight into the ground," Lawson explained.

"I have the solution! It's called killing the fuck out of this bastard!" Nadya raised her left hand in the plug, with her Unit mirroring the action.

Lawson's eyes became even wider. "I'm detecting destructive interference in the Territory!"

The Warrior looked up from its feast to see the hateful eyes of its second foe. It was eroding the knight's Territory with its own. Instead of a raging roar, the Archetype let out a scream of fear as the Shadow levelled its rifle at the creature. With its main defense gone, all that was left was to cover itself with its remaining blade, which was broken by the first hypersonic slug. The rest of them ruptured its cuirass, with the last one shattering the red core inside. As a final act of defiance, the Warrior sacrificed its form to create the cross-shaped explosion, severely burning Unit 3-07 before fading away.

"Three-oh-seven's plug temperature is critical! I can't read the pilot's vitals!" Lawson shouted.

"Hey, Reg! Come in!" Nadya shouted over the comm.

"What about the A-two reactors? Did they safely shut down?" Metzger asked.

"Yeah, and no breach despite the damage to the abdomen," Lawson answered.

"Good. Send in the retrieval team. Have the nearest hospital's emergency department on standby in case there are serious injuries," the captain instructed.

* * *

 _Where am I?_

Beep... beep... beep... beep...

All she could see was white light. She tried to move, but her body felt like it weighed a ton.

Beep... beep... beep... beep...

There was the sound of a door opening. Even the tiny wave of air from it made her skin prickle.

She heard the captain's deep voice. "How is she?"

An unfamiliar female voice responded. "There was nothing to worry about. She just needed a touch-up for the burns. Fortunately, her eyes were closed when the LCL started to boil."

 _Shit. I need a mirror, stat._

"Was there any mental contamination?"

 _That doesn't sound good._

"No, she lost synchronization around the same time she passed out. The three-series isn't particularly temperamental, so a berserk event was unlikely anyway"

"Is the remote sync regulator compatible with her Unit's circuits?"

"It should be, but it may need an adaptor. Talk to the techs and maybe they'll be able to install it while everything is still opened up for repairs."

"The CO designated three-oh-seven's repairs at a low priority even though it's the most damaged Unit we have. She said it's because four-oh-four and six-oh-six needed their post-deployment maintenance hours done ASAP in case we have another attack soon, but I suspect there's more to it than that."

 _Do they think I screwed up? Does everyone hate me now?_

"I didn't think of Swan as the vindictive type. If anything, she's always overly composed and professional even when everything's going to shit."

"You're Nerv personnel, Doctor. I have noticed, however, that she has a certain callousness when it comes to the general public. The elder Stanford belongs to that category for her despite the utility of having a media empire at our beck and call."

"And the younger one?"

"Could be because she's a civvie, and a Stanford on top of that. Could also be because she was incapacitated during that fight while her Unit was technically capable of continuing."

 _They think my thing could've gone on in that state? How much punishment can those... cyborgs take?_

"I read the report. Normal people don't have the kind of pain tolerance to shrug off injuries like that, especially not when their sync is over seventy."

"Normal doesn't cut it for her. During her time as a trainer, the colonel made a career of creating washouts en masse. She considers anything less than exceptional to be a sign of weakness."

 _I guess this is not my thing after all. All my life I've been told that I'm special, but really I just succeeded because I had money and people liked me. In the Shadow, it's all me. All I am in there is... worthless. It's not surprising that all I could do was screw up._

Regina squeezed her eyes shut, trying to hold back the tears and return to the respite of unconsciousness.


	5. Slice of Life

Chapter 5: Slice of Life / Tranquil Moments

February 24th, 2020

While Las Cielos' open-air sections were designed to mitigate the worst of the winds normally found on high-rise rooftops, they were still colder and more windswept than ground-level Vegas. This gave Valentine the perfect excuse to keep his jacket on as he sat on a sunlounger under a parasol near the Dawn Hotel's outdoor pool. The building continued to rise behind him, being almost as tall again as it was under the Thundercloud.

Alvarez sat outside the parasol's coverage, allowing his well-built upper body to soak in the sunlight but keeping his eyes covered with his aviators. A table stood between the two young men, keeping their mojitos cool in the shade.

"Sling, three o'clock," the tanning pilot noted.

"Nice find," the shaded pilot responded, adjusting his rimless, rectangular sunglasses to get a better view without giving away his line of sight.

"Micro, twelve o'clock, far side of the pool," Valentine pointed out.

"Impressive." Alvarez leaned forward and took a sip of his drink. "Oh, and check the red... Nevermind, she's spoken for. Guy's got good taste, though, I'll give him that.

"Only in women. I can see their canned premixes from here," Valentine said with a chuckle.

"Ugh. My old PJ buddies would chug six-packs of the stuff all the time. I turned down their offers after the first one."

"Did you at least keep it down?"

"Barely. The spicy chicken MRE I had before it didn't help." Alvarez shuddered as he recalled the experience.

Valentine sipped his drink and smirked. "At least your first experience wasn't the iced tea trick."

"You mean when it 'somehow' turns out to be from Long Island?"

"Yeah, and then she tried to pass it off as a science experiment. Apparently, she just wanted to see how my modified nervous system would react to it."

"Was the old man pissed?"

"He was at first, but then I started giving this nonsensical lecture about the difficulties of bioengineering a cow that spontaneously combusts in order to cook itself. Both of them started laughing their asses off."

"So instead of losing your mental faculties when drunk, you just refocus them towards more... unconventional ideas?" Alvarez joked.

"Until I run out of energy. After that, I pass out like anyone else."

"I guess that's-" Alvarez stopped mid-sentence and looked past Valentine. "Holy... Brunette, orange bikini, unevenly tanned face - looks to have been treated with spray-on skin for facial burns."

Valentine turned around to confirm his comrade's observation. "The report did state that three-oh-seven got a little cooked by the Archetype's death explosion. Plugsuit would've protected everything below the neck. The fact that she's wearing sunglasses instead of bandages suggests no eye damage."

"Good points. She is alone, though, so the other pilot is either back inside, or somewhere else entirely."

"Both of them are probably newcomers to Vegas, so it's unlikely that either of them would go far by themselves on their first day here," Valentine speculated.

"I don't know about that. The other one wasn't injured, so maybe they're out and about exploring the city," Alvarez proposed.

"I'd still say that the apartment is the most likely spot. Plenty of indoor types these days."

"This is all assuming that toasty here is even our pilot. Wanna be the one to make a horrible first impression, or should I?"

"You are the designated pointman." Valentine picked up his drink and leaned back, taking a long sip.

Alvarez stood up and stretched. "Then cover me, I'm going in."

"Cover yourself." Valentine grabbed his fellow pilot's discarded T-shirt from the table and threw it at him.

"Still naked without my piece, so you're the lookout here," Alvarez pointed out as he put on the shirt.

"All because somebody wanted to get radiation exposure instead of wearing a stylish and concealing jacket."

"Hey, chicks dig the swarthy Mediterranean look."

Valentine gave a chuckle. "Ten bucks says she'll make the common mistake."

"I'm not much of a gambler, and I didn't take you for one either."

The long-haired pilot took another sip, then gestured with his empty glass. "Only when I know I'll win. Also, she's about to get away."

Alvarez spun around and frantically scanned the poolside. Catching a brief glimpse of his quarry, he quickly walked off in pursuit.

* * *

Regina submerged herself neck-deep in the bubbling hot tub, taking off her oversized sunglasses and closing her eyes. Less than a minute later, she felt a shadow over her.

"Yo! How's it going, babe?"

She opened her eyes to see a shirtless bodybuilder leaning over her.

"Gotta say, those burns are nasty, but nothin' a paper bag can't fix."

The new pilot lifted her fingers out of the water and snapped twice. Moments later, the meathead was tackled to the ground by a pair of men in black.

Alvarez couldn't help but smirk as he saw the jock being dragged away by Section-2 agents. He approached less overbearingly, but made sure to stand tall and display confidence.

"I've got a pair for you too, jerkwad," Regina threatened, raising her hand again.

"You got me. I know Walker and Barker over there would never betray me, but I'm not so sure about other Sec-twos," Alvarez joked.

Regina's scornful expression turned to one of surprise, and then interest. "Are you, like, another pilot? You do smell like the... breathable OJ stuff. It doesn't come out no matter how much I shower."

"LCL?"

"That's it. What the hell does that stand for anyway?"

"Lyotropic Citrinitas Liquid. It's a big word salad like every other Shadow-related term," Alvarez explained, taking off his aviators and hanging them on his T-shirt.

"Tell me about it. Did they randomly grab you too?"

The young man sat down next to the hot tub. "No, I had years of military training, and a few Archetype kills under my belt from last year."

"Wow. You don't look much older than me. How were you in the military?" Regina asked as she got up out of the tub to sit level with Alvarez, wrapping herself in her towel to keep warm.

"It's classified, but you're cleared for it since you're Nerv now. After the Impact Wars, Prez Ryan wanted a program to prepare special forces operatives from a young age. Basically, a bunch of kids were put through military training and the ones that showed promise were assigned to train further with various elite units. From what I remember, there was one with Recon, one SEAL, a Ranger, and me with the PJs."

Regina giggled. "Like the kind you wear at night?"

"Pararescue. Jump out of a plane into a hostile zone, grab your captured buddies, then bug out. It's got the longest training course, so they had to skip out on the advanced medical stuff to have me ready in time for the live-fire joint exercises."

"So, you're a child soldier? I had no idea our government could do such a thing!"

Alvarez shrugged. "I don't hold it against them. It gave a couple of orphans something, even if it wasn't quite a normal life. And it came in real handy when it turned out that only kids born after Second Impact could pilot Shadows."

"Not handy enough since I'm here. My name's Regina, by the way."

"Alvarez, Ignacio Alvarez."

"Cool! Are you from Mexico?"

"No, I'm Spanish-American," Alvarez grumbled.

"Ha! Pay up!" Valentine gloated, revealing his presence behind them.

"Regina, meet the lucky bastard commonly known as Valentine." Alvarez held up a note, which the bet winner scooped up as he walked by.

Valentine squatted next to Regina and extended a hand. "Charmed."

"You don't look like a child soldier," the brunette pointed out, giving a firm shake.

"I'm more of a child science experiment," Valentine joked.

"Huh?"

"He's a gene-spliced clone," Alvarez clarified.

"Is that another government program?" Regina asked.

"No, it was carried out by a private institute called Gehirn, which was then integrated into Nerv as the science division. They were the ones who discovered the sync-positive mental pattern in the first place," Valentine recounted.

"Fucking schway! I knew the other pilots would show up!" Nadya shouted as she ran into the spa area, her trench coat billowing dramatically with each bounding step.

Regina cocked her head to the side. "How did you know we were here?"

"I may have listened in through your phone, Reg. Then it took me a while to get up here since I had to take the stupid local elevator down and then ride the express up."

"Oh great, a hacker," Alvarez commented.

"Russian, judging by the accent," Valentine added.

"My name's Nadya, short for Nadezhda. I'm not a super soldier or anything like you guys, but I've been cracking tech all my life."

"Does that include aim hacking?" Valentine teased.

"Of course not!" Nadya put her hands on her hips. "I'm a natural with a gun."

Valentine stood up straight and flipped his hair with his fingertips. "Really now? Care to demonstrate?"

"I would, but Metzger said that I wouldn't be issued one until I get an official commission," Nadya explained.

"The Nerv range allows access to the armory, so we can pick something out from there," Valentine said as he began to walk back to the hotel.

"You're on!" Nadya exclaimed as she caught up with him.

"Wanna head over too?" Alvarez asked Regina.

"Uh, I guess. I haven't shot a gun made for normal-sized people before, though."

"Don't worry, I'll show you how it's done," Alvarez reassured.

* * *

Theodore Stanford sat alone in the his simple yet luxurious LA-2 office, listening to the constant rain outside. After checking a message on the flip-up screen built into the desk, he folded it down and switched off the lights in the room.

Four holographic cubes were projected in the center of the room. Each contained an alphanumeric designation.

BF-2's cube changed from white to gold as the distorted voice came in over a speaker. "You overstepped your boundaries."

MR-3 spoke next. "It was a bold move. You should've consulted us beforehand."

"I knew you'd say no," Stanford replied.

"Better to ask forgiveness than permission? I expected more from you, Theodore," P-0 said, his advanced age obvious despite the distortion.

"We had a real nice plant all lined up, too. Then you had to steal all the glory for yourself because you got more strings in Nerv," UW-8 complained.

"It's too late now, but I suppose our operative could still be of some use," P-0 suggested.

"A real shame that we had to waste a Shadow opening on someone so... unsuited," MR-3 taunted.

"At least with my idea, I know I'll be getting some loyalty instead of relying on rehabilitated street trash," Stanford retorted.

"Yeah, a kid with no ability to perform deniable operations. Real genius over here," UW-8 derided.

Stanford folded his arms. "After the Myelin Institute's little incident, I'm not taking any more chances with outside help."

"Don't judge them by their early failures. R&D said that our latest subject in BosWash has a sync ratio roughly equivalent to Gehirn's models," BF-2 informed.

"I know Gehirn had a few early fuckups, but at least none of them required a ten-meter isolation radius!" Stanford shouted, slamming his fist on the table.

A new cube appeared next to the others. "That's the price of progress, my friend. Besides, we were trying to explore avenues that Gehirn had neglected," RD-5 stated.

"You'll all be thanking me when my candidate turns out to be the only reliable one." With the press of a button, Stanford ended the call.

* * *

Regina winced every time she fired the HK VP9. Her bullets hit paper, but missed the human-shaped silhouette.

"You're choking it. You want to push with your right hand while pulling with your left, but don't go too hard on it," Alvarez advised.

Trying again, Regina landed a shot where the target's liver would've been.

"Better, but you're still overcompensating a little. Try to-"

Alvarez was interrupted by two barrages of gunfire. The other two pilots were testing their speed-shooting skills against each other, emptying entire magazines into their targets.

Valentine's mag dropped first. He grabbed another one, shoved it into his 1911 and released the slide to continue firing.

Nadya reloaded less than a second later, slamming a fresh magazine in as soon as the old one left her VP9, then continuing to shred the target.

"And the winner is?" the hacker asked after she had finished.

"Neither. You both got some good groupings and some headshots, but you also both had a few go wide," Alvarez explained.

"You should be more careful about missing, Val. Only twelve shots compared to my fifteen," Nadya teased.

"Only the first few hits count in a real firefight, and someone keeps missing when she tries her questionable quick draw," Valentine responded.

Their banter was interrupted by Regina screaming as she attempted to replicate the high rate of fire. The three experienced shooters looked over to her target, which had a grand total of one new hole through the center.

"I think that's enough training the newb for today," Nadya remarked.

* * *

Roland Metzger stood on the roof of a Night City hotel, leaning on the railing and exhaling smoke. He watched as cars moved along Las Vegas Boulevard, ignoring the chatter of the rooftop cafe patrons behind him.

The elevator doors opened and Bertram Fuller emerged. The older officer walked over to the edge and lit up his own cigarette.

"Something the matter? the cyborg asked.

Fuller breathed out, letting the smoke get swept away by the wind. "No, but despite you not currently being on the clock, we would appreciate it if you didn't go... off the grid during your time off."

"That hard to find me when I turn off my internal nav?"

"It agitates the CO. You know how she can get."

"Tracked or not, it'll still take me the same amount of time to get to the base in the event of an attack."

"She'd prefer to know if it would be necessary to cover for you or not."

"That lazy, huh? Why doesn't she just make you take care of it?"

"I've always been more of a logistics man myself, Captain, especially after I went to work in peacekeeping and disaster relief for the UN."

"A career officer with a big-picture mindset. Can't say I've had favorable experiences with your type in the past." Metzger threw his cigarette butt into a nearby plant pot.

Fuller simply dropped his spent cig over the guardrail. "The feeling is mutual. You can imagine my reaction when they put a 'rebuilt' Delta operator in charge of tactical operations."

"Small unit tactics, quick thinking under pressure, improvising in unconventional situations. A black ops team leader is a perfect fit."

"A team leader, not a lone wolf," Fuller pointed out.

"Nobody was complaining when I pulled off that asset extraction single-handedly."

"I have to concede that one. A Section-two SRT could've done the job, but it would've been less... ideal. You had a certain rapport with Kasparova that got her on board with us quickly. A tactical team may have just scared her off."

"I'd say that your acquisition of Stanford was likewise good, but she was still pretty nervous when she arrived in Alaska."

"You should be thankful she was that calm when you got her. A sheltered girl like that doesn't take well to life-or-death situations." Fuller pinched the bridge of his nose. "Take a troubled youth from the fringes of society or some third-world hellhole and put a gun in their hands, they'll take to it soon enough. But someone raised in the lap of luxury? Their reaction is not fight-or-flight, it's to freeze up like a deer in the headlights and hope that it's all a bad dream."

"She did show some survival instinct when the time came, clumsy as it was. Now we just have to hope that our troubled youth's toughness rubs off on her." Metzger gave the hint of a smile as he turned on his heel and went to the elevator, leaving Fuller alone with the sound of nightlife.

* * *

By midnight, Nadya was sure that the other pilots were asleep. Wasting no time, she booted up her computer and put on a pair of headphones. With the added advantage of internal access, she set about finding a way to hack into the Nerv facility.

Setting up several internal computers and non-critical servers as proxies was easy enough. Intruding past DREAM's active countermeasures was more challenging, but she managed to use a tunnelling protocol to disguise her intrusion as routine data transfers.

"And the night shift sysadmin is... playing CS and ranked silver. What a noob," Nadya commented, snickering as she continued to hack.

The firewall on the active database servers proved annoyingly difficult, but Nadya found that the on-site backups were significantly more vulnerable, giving her easy access to data that was only two days old.

"Tell me your secrets, boys."

Going alphabetically, she skimmed through Alvarez' and Metzger's personnel files before coming to Valentine's.

"V-day - must be how he got the name. 'Born' in Seattle-two - that's pretty schway. Attached to Nerv science division when it was formed from Gehirn in twenty-ten. Began general Nerv operational training from age twelve, Shadow training from age fifteen. Aww, it doesn't show the results of any cool science experiments he was in. I'll probably need to get into a specific science archive for those."

She went back into the server, checking for more files. "Pilots from other facilities don't seem to be here. Guess I'll have to hack internationally for those. Still, it'll be helpful to do it from this network instead of a random computer, although it does make it easier to trace as well."

After editing the computers' access logs to cover her tracks, she dumped the stolen files to an external hard drive, encrypted them, and put the drive in the middle of a stack of identical ones. She then rebooted the RAM drive she had used for temporary storage and loaded up a few games with high system requirements to make sure her RAM was thoroughly cleaned.

* * *

Unbeknownst to the hacker, there was a second tunnel currently transmitting data. It avoided the Nerv network under the city, only going into the Dawn Hotel.

 **First impression was good. I should be able to recruit her soon enough.**

 **Wait until you've experienced combat together. It will help.**

 **When will my contact arrive?**

 **Next few days. They will provide you with a more permanent security exploit.**

 **Any targets of opportunity right now?**

 **No. Maintain observation only status and fulfill Nerv duties as normal until further notice.**

 **Understood.**

After powering down the computer, Valentine took off his shoes and stood on the desk to reach up into the ceiling vent. He retrieved a metal case the size of a hardback book and opened it, checking on the items held in cut-out foam padding before replacing it in the vent.

"Now we wait," he said to himself as he lay back on the bed.


	6. Around the World

Chapter 6: Around the World / Costs of Victory

February 25th, 2020

"Why are we stuck in here again?" Regina whined as she folded her arms over her pink tank top. She tapped her stiletto heel on the ground for another minute before uncrossing her tightly denim-wrapped legs.

The other pilots sat in the ready room in their usual street clothes, but with their jackets and coats stacked on one of the chairs. The facility's HVAC system had been acting up again, replacing the comfortably cool temperature with typical Vegas heat.

"Because we're at Archon three. Pilots in all facilities need to be ready to deploy," Alvarez explained.

"What's Archon?" the brunette asked.

"Archetype Readiness Condition," Valentine answered. "It's supposed to be pronounced A-R-CON, but everyone calls it Archon."

"Greek for ruler or something," Alvarez added.

"Seems about right, with them ruling over our afternoon like this," Nadya snarked.

Lawson's voice came in over the intercom. "Listen up, everyone, I have some bad news. Midway reports that two of their Units were ambushed and P-killed while on patrol in the Pacific. The other two took out the attackers but there may be more out there, so we'll be sitting here for a while."

"Wait, did she say attackers? As in multiple Archetypes?" Nadya pointed out. "Also, what does P-kill mean?"

Alvarez sighed, gripping the armrest. "Pilot kill. The Unit may still be salvageable, but the plug was breached." He rain his fingers through his hair, regaining his cool. "As for multiple attackers, it's probably the Creator up to its old tricks. It's a specialized Archetype that works like a hive queen, spawning soldiers to fight for it. It likes to hide out in the Marianas Trench below the shadows' safe operating depth and make an expendable force to send out for raids. We can't take losses indefinitely like it can, so even the odd kill or two is a victory for it."

"It also goes through the Arctic Ocean to harass the Atlantic coastal bases. Some of the guys in BosWash have fought the Spawn before," Valentine recounted.

"Landfall in Japan! You guys better suit up in case we get contacts on our coast too." Lawson announced.

* * *

The hulking, neon-red Shadow Unit with bright orange accents crouched between Tokyo-3 and the shoreline, its single horn and unrestrained grin of metallic teeth giving it the appearance of an oni ready for battle. The demon stood up, unsheathing a massive sword with a katana-like blade and a futuristic, full-hand handguard. Upbeat J-rock blasted from attached speakers that were normally used to broadcast messages to civilians in the combat zone.

"Ikuzo, Creator-temee!" the female pilot shouted over the guitar riff as the Unit assumed a combat stance.

Three 90-meter-long mantis shrimp-like creatures emerged from the ocean. Their pearlescent carapaces glistened in the rising sun and their reinforced forelimbs twitched, ready to punch through Shadow armor. They lacked the advanced eyes of the crustaceans they were likenesses of, seeing only normal colors. However, they made up for this with echolocation and Territory sensitivity. Perceiving their prey, the Spawn skittered towards it.

Unit 5-01 blocked the charge with its AT Field, forcing the giant stomatopods back. Retaliating with a single sweeping cut, the Shadow sliced through all three opponents, their bodies falling to pieces at its feet.

Another pair of Spawn emerged further up the beach, only to be picked off by a forest camo-painted sniper type that lay prone on the crest of a nearby hill. Unit 4-06 checked the scope settings of its EM-7, then returned to observing the coast.

Suddenly, four more of the creatures emerged from the water, barrelling towards the sniper.

"Gotcha!" a husky female voice called out above them in heavily accented English. The orange and purple Unit 6-01 fell out of the sky, planting a rocket-boosted lance into the lead shrimp.

Wasting no time, the Unit let got of its lance and rolled to the side, retrieving a prog knife from one of its shoulder pylons. Another one of the Spawn fell to the sniper's shot, but the remaining two rushed at 6-01.

The first shrimp threw a punch with its forelimb, only to have the appendage grabbed at full extension and pulled forward, driving its body straight onto the vibro-knife which shredded through its soft underbelly. Unit 6-01 held on to the dead Spawn, using it as a shield against the remaining one.

Despite the deaths of its kin, the final Spawn was unafraid and tried to rush around its fallen comrade on either side to attack at the Shadow, only to have the corpse block its advances every time.

"Kurae!" the pilot yelled as the Unit kicked its kill forward, sending the remaining opponent off-balance and allowing 6-01 to land a series of brutal stabs to the shrimp's head.

* * *

February 26th, 2020

Moscow's Shadow element was split into two dedicated teams - close combat and support fire. Apart from a few customized features, the Units were all painted with a snow camo pattern.

The support fire team consisted of a 3-series and a 4-series, which were training with their BM-5A1 particle beam rifles. The bright purple-blue beams tore through the red hydrogen balloons which were being launched as targets, giving a flash of fire to confirm each successful hit. With the benefit of an integrated reactor, 3-04 was able to feed power directly into the futuristic dark blue rifle, while 4-02 had to manually reload new power packs into the bullpup design.

Meanwhile, the close combat team was conducting drop training further out from the city. The snow-white Units twisted through the air, weaving around flak clouds that represented Archetypes' ranged attacks. Before landing, each of the three Units threw a knife with chainsaw teeth on the blade, each one popping a target balloon.

The Shadows touched down, sending tremors through the ground. They picked up boxy, single-edged swords with brutal chain blades. Catapults launched logs into the air and the giants split them, each precise swing sending out a shower of splinters.

The thundering of footsteps preceded the arrival of the support fire team, and the two Shadows crouched with their rifles pointed in the direction of their comrades. More target balloons were released on the other side of the close combat Units, forcing the marksmen to carefully shoot around the melee specialists who were still training with their swords - a simulation of the dynamic conditions of an actual Archetype battle.

* * *

February 27th, 2020

The Nerv Berlin facility was bustling with activity as two new Units were installed in its underground hangar. Unit 2-07, affectionately referred to as Asmodeus, was a dark red Shadow with metallic black details. Its ram-like horns and heavy armor plating made it an imposing sight, especially when compared to the slender Unit 6-02, which was white with red markings.

A pair of young women stood and watched from the catwalk as their Units were affixed in the cages.

Gertrud Engels, the pilot of 2-07, had her hair dyed in her Unit's colors and dressed in a gothic style. She idly twirled a butterfly knife around her fingers, folding and unfolding the weapon to keep her mind occupied.

6-02's pilot, Angelika Suess, also resembled her Unit, having albino features including pale red eyes. She wore a simple white dress and stood up straight instead of leaning on the railing, keeping her hands clasped in front of her.

"So, I heard you hold the record for highest resting sync ratio. Don't think it's going to stay that way," Engels warned.

"You cannot overcome it. Even if you do, I will have set an even higher one by that point," Suess responded, completely deadpan.

Engels pointed at her rival with her closed knife, narrowing her makeup-lined blue eyes. "I know you think you're hot shit because you survived exposure to Second Impact on the day you were born, but I've seen your specs. You still rely on targeting assist to shoot, and you've never been in a melee engagement."

"And yet neither of those things affect my synchronization. Also, I have never had the need to close the distance when my Territory abilities are a far better method of dispatching a foe. Furthermore, manual aiming has been found to confer no advantages over the use of assistance," Suess stoically explained.

"Just wait until they make the aim assist go the way of the five-series' targeting software with the next patch. You won't be able to hit the broad side of a barn."

"Coming from the pilot who managed to miss an Archetype core twice the size of one," Suess retorted.

Engels' face turned bright red. "That was different! It was a moving target!"

Suddenly, alarms blared throughout the base, followed by a PA announcement.

"Achtung! ARCON drei! In Grossbritannien erkannt Archetyp!"

"Scheisse. I thought that was us about to get some action, but I guess London-two has this one covered," Engels complained.

* * *

Jason Langdon had been practicing in the Nerv London-2 firing range when the alert came in.

"Sodding hell," the young man sighed as he holstered his Walther P99. He swept his blonde fringe to the side, keeping it above his dark eyes. The hairstyle, youthful features, and a generous helping of audio tuning software had made him a heartthrob among the world's young girls, but made it difficult to be taken seriously in a paramilitary environment.

To compensate, he had tried to re-style himself as an improbably young super-spy, but lazily wearing an open tuxedo jacket over an untucked lavender dress shirt and skinny jeans did him no favors on that front, and neither did the sporadic pattern of holes in his target.

When he arrived at the lockers, the two female members of the team emerged, already suited up for battle. Both had their unruly hairstyles tied back into tight ponytails, but that was where the similarities ended.

Leticia Love was a statuesque sportswoman who wore a permanent smile on her soft Afro-Caribbean features. She had been due to compete in the 2020 Tokyo-3 Olympics when she was found to be sync-positive and recruited by Nerv, topping the pilot candidate charts for endurance and coordination.

The petite, redheaded Scot next to her was Moira Rutherford. The cranky yet focused lass already had a PhD in nuclear physics, making her the team's in-field science specialist. Her position on the Cambridge rifle team also made her an invaluable long-range combatant.

"Get a move on already! We cannae wait for yer famous arse all day!" the Scotswoman exclaimed.

"I could wait for it," the Jamaican flirted, giving Jason a wink.

"After saving the world, Love," he replied as he went to change into his plugsuit.

A minute later, the final two team members stepped out of the lift and headed for the lockers.

Jonathan James Crawford greeted the ladies with a wave as he rushed past. His usually well-combed brown hair had become dishevelled from running most of the way, but he retained his upper-class composure despite being almost out of breath. Even though the British nobility had lost the remainder of its official power following Second Impact, he still held significant pride in his hereditary peerage.

The other young man was the noble scion's polar opposite - a mysterious drifter known only as Darren and referred to as "The Hammerer" in official reports. He had suffered extensive burns at some point in his life, leading to widespread scarring and the replacement of both eyes with crude cybernetics. Unlike the subtle cybereyes used by some Nerv personnel, his resembled permanently attached goggles with obvious camera lenses which emitted a whirring sound every time he changed his focus.

With everyone suited up, the pilots made their way into the hangar and entered their Units, powering them up and launching to the surface on electromagnetic rails that attached to the Shadows' shoulder pylons. As each one came to a sudden stop at ground level, the pilots were treated to a view of the London-2 sprawl. The new capital of the United Kingdom had been built further down the Thames from its destroyed predecessor, and had largely replaced the old-fashioned architecture with armored skyscrapers intended to serve as cover in the event of an attack, be it from an Archetype or a foreign Shadow-equipped power as evidenced by the deliberately confusing layout and the fact that some of the towers could be climbed for use as vantage points.

Langdon's Unit 6-07 was built for speed like the rest of the 6-series. It was painted matte black with blood red highlights and sported a cluster of advanced antennas on the back of its head. It wielded a maser beam sword - a weapon derived from the concept of beamed microwave power. In order to conserve electricity when in use, a superconductive cable ran down the frame which held the receiver away from the emitter, allowing most of the energy to be recycled.

Love piloted 1-06 - one of the earlier models. It was heavily armored and had a vibrant yellow and turquoise color scheme. Its weapon was a cruciform sword with the cutting edges replaced by electrodes, allowing it to deliver a nasty electric shock while also being balanced enough to parry melee attacks.

Rutherford's Unit was 3-06. The bright orange and yellow 3-series had the integrated reactors as standard, as well as an antenna array similar to 6-07. It was equipped with the EM-8 electrolaser rifle, which used a laser beam to ionize air, then send the full output of the Unit's reactor through it as a lightning bolt.

Crawford piloted the royal red and shining silver Unit 2-04. It was a decent all-rounder with a custom monocle-like optical display fitted over the right eye. In its hands it held the BM-3A2 maser carbine - a shortened, rapid-fire variant of the BM-3 maser rifle.

Finally, the Hammerer had been assigned to a rusty, dark grey provisional Unit 0-05. Its arms and legs had been replaced with cybernetics, giving it a four-wheeled configuration. Instead of a hand, one of the prosthetic arms had a colossal maul attached to it. Additionally, its already heavily-armored body was covered in explosive tiles to provide an additional layer of reactive defense.

An analyst from the London-2 command center contacted the team over the comm. "The Archetype is in an industrial park near the outskirts, and appears to be immobile at this time. Tests with unmanned drones indicate that it has an effective attack range of approximately twenty klicks with some sort of beam weapon. AT Field characteristics suggest that it's a Sage-type, so it may reveal other abilities as you get closer."

"Twenty kilometers? That's more than twice the effective range of our weaponry," Jonathan Crawford pointed out.

"Right. Who's gonna be bait while we get into position?" Jason asked.

"I've got the bloody tank. Let's do this shit. Rest of you behind me!" Darren responded as he pushed his control sticks forward, sending Unit 0-05 rolling down the wide road.

"We should fan out. Too vulnerable to go in a tight group," Leticia suggested.

"Aye. And keep yer AT Fields low. Most Archetypes are sensitive to them," Moira advised.

The Sage stood in a loading zone next to a large warehouse. To a naive observer, the Archetype would simply resemble another building - a 100-meter tall, 200-meter wide ziggurat made from an obsidian-like substance. Each of the five layers was constructed from distinct 20-meter cubes. As it sensed hostile lifeforms approaching, the layers began to rotate like sections of a Rubik's cube.

On some level, it realized that the wheeled enemy did not pose an immediate threat, instead targeting the one with the strongest energy output - Unit 3-06. The beam of plasma lanced out from the top of the ziggurat, cycling through the entire visible spectrum and then fading as it left a blackened trail on the Shadow's chest armor. The pilot screamed out in pain and flooded the comm channel with unintelligible expletives.

"I've got this!" Crawford exclaimed as he raised his AT Field to maximum power. The Sage immediately noticed the energy spike and re-prioritized its targeting. However, the AT specialist's barrier was sufficiently powerful to halt the beam for its entire duration.

Unit 2-04 continued to act as the tank, blocking several more beams before its AT Field shattered. By then, the rest of the team had closed to within six kilometers.

While the three melee attackers continued to charge, Moira opened fire with the electrolaser, forcing the Sage to raise its own AT Field to defend itself. The lighting bolts danced over the orange barrier, degrading it but failing to penetrate.

Crawford arrived next to her and fired a burst from the maser carbine. The microwave beams it fired were invisible to human eyes, with the only indication of it firing being bursts of steam escaping from vents on the front of the weapon, which were reminiscent of the X-shaped muzzle flash of a firearm with a flash hider. The hits also registered on the Sage's AT barrier, sending ripples along the semi-transparent orange surface.

Its AT Field nearly down, the Sage retaliated with a plasma beam that burned a hole clean through 2-04. The automated ejection system was all that saved Crawford's life as it launched the entry plug out of the Unit's back. Solid rocket thrusters propelled the capsule clear of the battle site and a parachute brought it down safely.

In the meantime, the two sword wielders and the Hammerer had closed the distance to the Archetype. The destructive interference of multiple hostile AT Fields was enough to finally bring down the Sage's defenses, allowing the Units to take swings at the spinning cube layers with their weapons. Focusing on offense now, the ziggurat released a lightshow of beams around itself, forcing its attackers to weave around them.

Jason slid under the beams and planted his maser sword into the ground, cutting off the corners of the spinning ziggurat like was a workpiece being turned on a lathe and sending out a shower of molten chunks. The Sage fired its beam at him, but his Unit's maneuverability allowed him to roll out of the way just in time to avoid it.

Leticia had less fortune with her attacks. While each spinning section sent sparks flying when hit by the shock blade, the lack of a prolonged contact had largely mitigated the damage. Frustrated, she tried stabbing with the tip, hoping to jam the electrodes between the cubes. In her focused state, she failed to notice the rainbow light building up at the top of the pyramid.

"Love! Look out!" Jason screamed futilely .

Compared to 6-07's deft avoidance of the beam, 1-06 was sluggish, taking a graze as it backflipped to dodge the counterattack. Noticing that its target was off-balance, the Sage followed up by firing a brilliant cone, bathing the entire Unit in plasma. When the light died down, the Shadow's frontal armor had largely been vaporized, and the flesh underneath was charred and smoking. The Unit fell on its back, preventing the ejection system from activating properly.

"Life sign monitors are unresponsive! Pilot condition unknown!" an analyst shouted.

Jason gritted his teeth. "Damn it! Gotta kill it quick so we can get rescue teams in here!"

"Come on, this thing's gotta have a weakness!" the Hammerer yelled as he chipped away at the mid-section cubes with his maul.

Having found a new firing position, Moira let loose with her lightning gun. However, instead of hitting the Archetype, the lightning dispersed around it, shocking her comrades instead.

"Watch where you're shooting!" Darren shouted at her.

"Oh shite! It's created an ion cloud around it to redirect the current!" the Scottish scientist explained.

"Don't do that again! I can barely dodge as is!" Jason complained as his Unit dropped flat against the ground to avoid another plasma cone.

The Hammerer took another swing, shattering a cube and exposing something red behind it. "I've got the Core!"

He celebrated too soon, as his Unit took a plasma beam to the face a moment later. The entire head of 0-05 was melted, sending the glowing slag flowing down onto its body. Since the beam came from a higher elevation, it continued burning into the Unit, scorching its upper back and damaging the entry plug's ejection system. The LCL in Darren's plug boiled, worsening the burns on his face. However, he counted himself lucky to avoid being vaporized as he saw the light fade.

Unit 6-07 hammered at the cubes with its sword, exposing more of the spherical red Core. "Die already, you blighter!" Langdon screamed with rage.

"I've got Jon's carbine! Coming to help n-" Moira's communication was cut short as a plasma beam pierced her Unit's already weakened armor.

"Unit three-oh-six down! No reactor breach, thank goodness," the analyst announced, then gasped as he noticed a new alert on the monitors. "Neural spike detected in six-oh-seven!"

The base commander looked at the neural activity display that was now being projected in front of the tower for everyone to see. "A berserker?" he breathed.

6-07 dropped its maser sword and began tearing at the Archetype with its bare hands. It grabbed the Core and ripped it free of the ruined ziggurat, throwing the red sphere on the ground and stomping on it.

For the first time, the Sage experienced a fear of the unknown. Despite having an understanding of science beyond mankind's wildest dreams, the Archetype could not comprehend what was happening to it in its final moment. It wondered how this creature, a mere shadow of the progenitor, could suddenly gain such overwhelming power.

With one last stomp, the Core cracked and exploded, barely harming the vicious, victorious Shadow. Unit 6-07 let out a muffled, inhuman scream as it clawed at its face. It tore off the optical hardware, exposing a pair of menacing red eyeballs.

Unsatisfied with the carnage, the berserk Unit proceeded to grab Unit 1-06 by the leg and dragged it to the nearest block of buildings, using the scorched Shadow as a flail to demolish the various chemical plants and warehouses. After a few more hits, the body came free and flew off into a lake, leaving the berserker holding the severed leg. 6-07 headbutted the leg's knee blade repeatedly, using it to knock off its remaining head armor. As a final act of defiance, the Shadow leaned back and let out a roar with its freed mouth before shutting down.

* * *

February 28th, 2020

"Fuck me sideways. Shadows can really go apeshit," Nadya said as the footage ended. Relaxing, she sat back down on the ready room couch next to Valentine to process what she had just seen.

"Is the scary part over yet?" Regina asked, her face buried in Alvarez' shoulder.

"Yeah. Makes me thankful that I've never been around when a berserk went down," he replied, putting his arm around her.

"He seriously managed to make a six-series berserk? Langdon must have some serious anger management issues," Valentine snarked.

"Maybe it's delayed teen angst. He's supposed to be nineteen, but still looks like a kid to me," Alvarez joked.

Regina giggled and narrowed her eyes. "Probably gets more action than you, stubbly!"

"After doing that? If the intel is right about them, he's definitely sleeping alone while she's in the ICU, plus some couch time after that," Valentine pointed out.

"That's cold, man." Alvarez extended a fist, which his bro reached over the coffee table between the couches to bump.

"I noticed that some of the Units look different. Threes all seem to have the reactor, though, and I'm guessing that the other fours are snipers like mine. Do the other numbers correspond to anything?" Nadya asked.

"The first number is the series number, which is in order of the first Unit of that series being produced compared to the firsts of other series. The number after that is the Unit number, also in order of production," Alvarez explained.

"They're sorted by when the Core was created, as opposed to when the Unit entered service. The ones saw combat before the zeroes, but the zeroes had their Cores made earlier," Valentine added.

"Yeah. There are three main generations - the zeroes and ones are the original prototypes, the twos are test types designed to be tech demonstrators, and everything after that is a specialized production model," Alvarez recounted.

Valentine went through his mind, recalling the specific characteristics of each. "The one-series Units were made to be resilient and originally used an earlier type of armor known as A-type, which lacked the shoulder pylons of the B-type. The zero-series was an attempt to repurpose early failed Units by replacing sub-par sections with cybernetics."

"The twos came after that as more of an all-round combat Unit. They lacked any outstanding features by default, but had hardpoints for various experimental tech, some of which was further developed to create the production models' various specializations. The ones and the twos are the most temperamental of the lot, with the highest number of berserk incidents," Alvarez pointed out.

"Right." Valentine continued. "The threes were designed to go out into the field with integrated A-two reactors for power. Unfortunately, they weren't the fastest things around, which made them a poor choice for intercepting Archetypes out in the open, even with the longer operating time. The four-series was designed as a dedicated long-range combatant, as Nadya had speculated. The stability augmentation frame gives it excellent accuracy even when one-handing a full-size rifle. The only downside is that they're built to be light and mobile, so a direct hit from any Shadow-scale weapon is a serious concern."

"The five-series is the opposite. A heavy assault type designed to take hits and give them right back. It can be a bit moody, but handles well in close quarters. Long-range targeting is shit, though. I've been considering taking a shotgun to fire off a few shots as I close in, but it's almost quicker to just charge in and get to work with the sword," Alvarez explained, leaning back proudly.

"Finally, the six-series is the maneuver type. It handles like a dream, with the agility and precision of a pursuit predator. Like the four-series, it wasn't made to take hits, so I have to take full advantage of being able to strike hard and fast while using my maneuverability to stay out of trouble." Val paused, then noticed Nadya hanging on every word he said. "I've also heard rumors of a seven-series in development. It's supposedly another frontline combat Unit. Likely based on the five-series' muscular biological design, but with next-gen tech integrated into the armor."

"That's so fucking schway!" the hacker exclaimed.

"Nadya, stop trying to make 'schway' happen. It's not going to happen!" Regina responded.

"Sure it will. Just give the megacorps a few years to come to power and create a cyberpunk dystopia," Nadya remarked, giving a smug look.

"They practically are in power now. The latest business figures show that US industries are moving closer toward monopolies than ever before. My father's media group doesn't get much competition these days since he bought most of it out for cheap when everyone else was investing in the reconstruction boom," Regina explained.

"And between the widespread surveillance, simmers of conflict, and the constant threat of a giant monster killing everyone, I'd say we're living in something of a dystopia," Alvarez added.

"Makes me wonder why I'm in this line of work instead of deniable corporate espionage," Valentine joked, looking over to Nadya.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Sorry for the delay on this chapter. I had a few more scenes planned and I was unsure which ones to put in this chapter and which ones to save for the next one. I decided to get a lot of the exposition done here, which will hopefully start to give some insights into the worldbuilding I did for this AU to integrate the Adeptus Evangelion elements while giving it my own spin on things.

I hope you're enjoying it so far and welcome your inputs. I'm also curious if you think the CARNAGE level is appropriate for this rating, since I intend to keep it around this level or maybe a bit bloodier. And of course, more fanservice!


	7. Smokescreen

Chapter 7: Smokescreen / The Search for Answers

March 2nd, 2020

Aboveground, the BosWash arcological complex appeared to merely be the world's longest slab of steel and concrete. Unlike Tokyo-3's retracting buildings, the entirety of BosWash's civilian architecture was permanently underground. The only mobile sections were the Shadow support structures, which could rise up to serve as cover during engagements. This design led to the surface level being referred to as "The Arena" by Nerv personnel. Since the layout made airports impractical, they were built on either reclaimed or entirely artificial islands off the coast and connected by underwater tunnels.

Neo-Atlantis, the new form of Atlantic City, was a major resort area on the reclaimed Absecon Island. Combining the second-largest airport in the region with America's second-largest casino strip allowed it to flourish as one of the main tourism centers on the east coast despite being less than a hundred kilometers away from a designated war zone.

The _Lady Luck,_ a custom Airbus A380, lifted off from the airport's main runway. The massive plane was owned by a casino conglomerate and used as a shuttle to transport their premium customers between the Vegas Complex and Neo-Atlantis. The luxurious interior consisted of multiple themed bars and lounges, a restaurant, a spa with a hot tub, and private rooms that could be occupied for the duration of a flight. An onboard casino was also present, but only card games were played since the potential for sudden turbulence made dice games and roulette unreliable.

Three hours into the flight, Liam Taggart sipped on a single-malt as he looked at the aquarium, the blue glow from it illuminating his creased features and salt-and-pepper hair. His dark eyes weren't focused on the tropical fish, watching the reflections of the patrons behind him instead. The ex-Air Marshal adjusted his white shirt and charcoal jacket, then turned around and walked through the curtain into the next bar over. Unlike the bright and peaceful aquarium bar, this one was a neon-lit dive with a slow, bluesy beat playing on the speakers.

He saw one of the priority VIPs - a high roller who was almost certainly involved in money laundering. Taggart had come to suspect that his employers transitioned from legitimate businessmen to mobsters somewhere up the food chain, but the shady business of gambling made it difficult to discern where the casino operating companies ended and the Neo-Commission began. The one thing he did know is that a well-dressed older man who somehow gains millions every week through a shell company, loses them in a casino and cashes out exactly ten percent is definitely involved in something.

The two suspects probably knew this too. He had seen them walking around, casing the plane - young adults, Caucasian, taller than airline regulations would allow, extremely muscular, and the only two male flight attendants on a luxury flight. The anomalies could be justified by the female high rollers wanting some eye candy too, but the dead giveaway was their lack of inside knowledge - they were the only flight attendants who didn't recognize him as undercover security and served him undiluted drinks. Also, with the exception of one having a shaved head, and the other having jaw-length brown hair and thick stubble, the two brown-eyed giants looked very similar and were almost definitely related.

The VIP moved to the observation lounge, shadowed by Taggart. One of the brothers walked through the section carrying a tray of drinks, then headed towards the galley at the back of the plane. Once they were isolated with the two chefs, the infiltrators disarmed them of their knives as a force of habit before choking them out and snapping their necks.

The brothers got to work, unpacking ballistic vests and gas masks from a cupboard. They stripped off their fancy uniform vests and dress shirts, revealing skin-tight black bodysuits similar to Nerv's plugsuit designs. After putting on the body armor, they secured the gas masks to the collars of their suits to achieve total protection from chemicals.

Taggart heard screams coming from the back sections, followed by a flight attendant stumbling into the lounge through the curtain, clutching her eyes and groaning in pain. A smoke grenade flew into the section, spewing an opaque white cloud that made the passengers panic and run around blindly.

"Take cover and hold on tight!" Taggart yelled to the VIP. The ex-Air Marshal drew his SIG Sauer P229 and fired at the windows, shattering them and venting the acidic smoke out of the plane. Oxygen masks dropped down and Taggart grabbed one, holding it to his face with one hand while aiming at the doorway with the other.

Another smoke grenade bounced into the room, its contents already streaming towards the broken windows. Taggart opened fire at the curtain, only to have one of the masked assailants spring out from the port-side doorway instead of the starboard one, bringing up a Glock 20 and putting two rounds into Taggart's chest. The plainclothes agent fell to the ground and the high roller tried to run, only to be shot in the leg by the masked man.

"Time to give the signal," one of the brothers said to the other. He scooped up his quarry while his comrade unfolded a pre-made loop of det cord and pressed it against the side of the cabin, taking cover behind a seat before blowing out the wall.

A white VTOL that had been cruising underneath the A380 the whole time noticed the signal and started swaying from side to side, releasing chaff to clog up all four of the engines. After its job was done, it flew further away on the side with the hole and fired flares to give an "all clear" signal. Between the total loss of propulsion and the hole interfering with its aerodynamics, the plane quickly began to shake and descend.

One of the masked men approached the hole and used a self-anchoring bolt to secure a length of cable to the floor. Meanwhile, the other one attached it to a descender on his belt. Holding the hostage tight, he jumped out of the plane.

The cable was pulled tight, the kidnapper serving as a counterweight. It was then caught by the VTOL and the quarry was collected. The second brother went to secure himself and escape as well when a gunshot rang out behind him.

Liam Taggart leaned on one of the seats, holding up his smoking pistol. The undercover vest hadn't stopped the bullets completely, but it saved his vital organs and left him with enough strength for one desperate shot.

His target was less fortunate, however, as the .357 SIG round had bored straight through the back of the gas mask. The hulking corpse swayed in the wind for a moment before dropping out of the hole.

* * *

March 4th, 2020

Regina crept through the dark building. The walls and doors were made from unpainted wood. Old, worn-out furniture was arranged in the room, some of which had bullet holes.

The brunette drew a Beretta Px4 Storm from a concealed carry holster in the waistband of her jeans and swept the doorway with the barrel. She then pulled her gun close to her body and fluidly stepped into the next room, clearing one corner and immediately turning around to check the other.

A silhouette came up from behind a couch and Regina opened fire, putting two rounds into its center mass and one in its head. The target fell back and the young woman continued. Another one sprung out of the doorway on the other side of the room and got the same three-shot pattern.

Sweeping the doorway, Regina saw the edge of a target and opened fire. She proceeded to charge forward, entering the room and putting another three shots into a target hiding in the corner before whipping around and narrowly avoiding pulling the trigger on empty space.

Before continuing, she replaced the magazine in her gun with a fresh one from her pocket. She approached the closed door and pressed her back against the wall next to it. Kicking backwards with her low-heel boot, she opened the door and entered the room, bringing her pistol up and firing on multiple targets while moving to a dresser for cover. She continued shooting at each target until the slide of her pistol locked back, signifying that it was empty.

"Clear!" she yelled as she withdrew the magazine and yanked on the slide several times. The lights turned on, revealing Alvarez, Valentine and Metzger standing on catwalks over the training rooms.

"Getting better," the captain commented stoically.

"I told you I could teach her to shoot," Alvarez boasted.

"Not a bad time for a blind run," Valentine pointed out.

"Damn right, she's a natural. Just needed some expert guidance to bring it out," Alvarez said with a smirk.

Nadya joined them on the catwalk, her new FN Five-seveN USG hanging in a drop-leg holster on her right thigh. "The newb is getting there. How long until we can start doing team drills?"

"Whenever you can schedule it," Metzger replied, motioning for everyone to follow him out.

The live-fire training range was next to the Shadow hangar, taking advantage of the underground nature of the base to make for easy proofing against both bullets and noise. As the pilots and their captain exited the shoot house, they saw a second Jeep parked next to the one they had used earlier. A petite woman in her early twenties exited the car and approached them. She wore a white lab coat that contrasted with her olive skin and brown eyes. Her hair was obviously dyed blonde, with the brown roots still visible.

"What's going on, Doctor?" the captain asked.

"Figured it was time to give everyone a tour of the lower floors, given what they'll be studying soon," the woman replied.

"Hey, Vicky! It's been a while!" Valentine exclaimed, smiling and waving.

"Val! I haven't seen you since you transferred to Groom Lake!" the scientist replied, giving him a hug.

"These two know each other?" Nadya asked, looking a bit flustered.

"Old flame, by the looks of things," Regina inferred. She'd seen the body language enough times to recognize the signs of intimacy.

"Guys, this is Doctor Victoria Mendoza. I grew up with her in Seattle-two," Valentine explained.

"She's our resident biomed and AT theory expert. Her late father was the one behind the American branch of the Manufactured project," Metzger added.

"Mendoza? I remember that name from some old KGB files. They were pissed when the yanks extracted him from Cuba in eighty-eight," Nadya recounted.

Dr. Mendoza smiled at Nadya. "He used to get homesick up until the Caribbean took the Second Impact tsunami. After that, he was just thankful." She looked over to Regina. "Miss Stanford! Nice to see that you've recovered. Sorry about the spray-on skin taking a while to blend in. I've had the problem myself before," the scientist said with a giggle.

"It's fine. Better than getting, like, a skin graft or something."

"Anyway, I'm running AT theory lectures at the university for Nerv's pilot and scientist candidates. I came here to get you all up to speed while showing you around our science division. Better to know what you're piloting after all, right?"

"There are other candidates? Why didn't you just put one of them into my Unit instead of me?" Regina asked the captain.

"They were confirmed around the same time you were, and they've only just started the course, so they weren't any more qualified than you," Metzger explained.

"What training are they gonna get? Muscle memory stuff? Sims? Tandem?" Alvarez asked.

"I'm not letting those newbs ride along with me," Nadya joked.

"They're sticking to theory and some range time until they get assigned to a Unit. No sense in picking up bad habits from a simulation body," Metzger clarified.

* * *

While low socioeconomic status was expected in mass-produced apartments, District C-38 in northern Las Vegas was among the poorest. This had resulted in several blocks being occupied by a militant gang. With virtually no police presence this far out, they could do as they pleased, ruling over the dregs of society with an iron fist.

Their reign had lasted over a year, and ended in a manner of minutes two days ago. Now, the lowest of the low feared a new paramilitary group - faceless, seemingly identical soldiers wearing urban camo-patterned special ops gear, respirators, and darkened goggles. The troops carried either FN SCAR-L Mk. 16 assault rifles or KRISS Vector submachine guns - weapons that matched their high-tech black ops style. Both models had reflex sights mounted on them, while the rooftop soldiers used ACOG scopes on their rifles.

The soldiers touched their headsets as a white panel van drove through the district, calling in the arrival. The van parked in front of block C-38-11 - the former base of the gang. The passenger door swung open and the long-haired brother emerged. He opened the sliding door and dragged a well-dressed man with a bag over his head and a bandage on his leg out of the cargo space. The driver-side door opened and a pair of high-heeled leather boots stepped out onto the pavement.

One of the high-ranking soldiers, denoted by his red goggles, greeted them at the door. "Sorry about Deimos. He won't be forgotten," he said, laying a hand on the surviving brother's shoulder.

"His sacrifice will not be in vain," the muscular operative responded before leading his captive inside.

"Ma'am," the soldier said with a nod as the final member of the trio walked by him.

With a bag on his head, the high roller couldn't see much more than the plain concrete floor as he was walked into the building and up the stairs. He caught a glimpse of a bloodstain on the steps, making him shudder to think about what was in store for him.

"Don't worry, give us what we want and you're not going to end up like the previous occupants," the feminine voice said, almost as if responding to his worries.

"I'm not sayin' anything!"

"You don't have to. Sit him down and leave us, Phobos."

"As you wish, Psyche." The muscular kidnapper pushed his captive onto a tattered couch and left, the thuds of heavy combat boots still audible as he went down the stairs. The high roller got a better view of the woman in charge. In addition to the knee-length boots, she wore tight, Kevlar-reinforced biker jeans and an unzipped leather jacket, leaving the front of her curve-hugging black plugsuit visible.

"Let's start with some simple word association."

"I told you I ain't sayin' a word!"

"You don't have to."

He felt gloved fingers pinning him against the back of the couch by his neck. She pulled the bag from his head, filling his vision with a pair of grey eyes staring intensely into his. Her straight, chin-length black hair was parted but dishevelled, with a few loose strands over her thin nose and high cheekbones.

"Myelin Institute."

"W-what?"

"Manufactured program, genetic research, synchronization, Territory sensitivity, cognitive overbleed perception."

The high roller squirmed. "What are you on about?"

"Seems as though you have decent enough compartmentalization. Do you even know your boss? No? How about a handler?"

The man remained tight-lipped and tried his best to keep staring forward. He had heard of the interrogation technique involving the captive being talked at while being watched for microexpressions.

"Hmm. And is there a main casino? Well-guarded, I'd imagine. Plenty of cameras, secure vault, staff-only office spaces. Requiring a keycard? That does make things difficult."

"Lady, you can't try to pull anything with these people! If you steal from that casino, you're going to piss off some serious underworld players!"

"The Neo-Commission might as well be a couple of two-bit crooks to me. They're only a stepping stone on the path to my real target. A real shame you didn't anything about the puppet masters in the shadows. It would've helped you live longer. Now, what will your last thought be?"

"Wait! What are-" The high roller's last words were cut short by a switchblade piercing his vocal chords.

"How banal," Psyche sighed, extracting the knife and wiping it on her victim's suit jacket.

* * *

Dr. Mendoza led the pilots onto a balcony overlooking a giant indoor pool of orange liquid. A remotely controlled maintenance submersible bobbed up and down at the far end of the pool.

"This is one of our LCL production tanks. Lyotropic Citrinitas Liquid has several unique properties, including its unique phase change when oxygenated and electrically charged. The other vital property is its conduction of the AT Field. Those of you who are new to Territory theory may not know this, but humans have one, just like Shadows and Archetypes. Of course, ours are several orders of magnitude weaker so we can't use them to achieve anything fancy, but they are as essential as breathing for us to live," the scientist explained.

"What happens to a human without one?" Nadya asked.

"Funnily enough, you turn into this stuff." Victoria pointed to the pool. "Without the AT Field to stabilize you, your Rubedo-patterned matter degrades to Citrinitas, the most common form of which is LCL. There are also other forms, including one which can be alloyed with metal and is used in some Shadow weapons."

Regina cocked her head to the side. "So, why don't dead people melt into OJ?"

"After normal brain death, the Territory decays over the next day or so, allowing the matter to transition back to Albedo - the pattern of non-living normal matter. We haven't had the chance to observe Citrinitas because the transitions from Albedo food to Rubedo body and Rubedo body to Albedo waste only involve the Citrinitas state for microseconds, and give no obvious indication of it. It was only once you guys..." She pointed to the Russian. "... discovered the Citrinoarchea in Lake Vostok, that we managed to isolate it. It's thought to be the missing link that can explain abiogenesis. These ancient organisms are the only ones to have a metabolic process that isolates it in a stable state, so we use them to produce LCL."

"In Antarctica? I knew it! Meteorites can't melt ice caps!" Nadya joked.

Mendoza walked on, leading the pilots to a meeting room with a projector. "I'm sure they can, Miss Kasparova. However, you are right in that Second Impact was not really much of an impact, per se. It was the result of an early Territory experiment. Unfortunately, the large amount of Citrinitas material under the ice managed to conduct and amplify the relatively weak artificial Territory, creating a chain reaction that briefly caused our four-dimensional spacetime to interact along a fifth dimension, bringing the first Archetype to our world." She pressed a button, projecting an imagine of a glowing, Shadow-shaped giant.

"So the Shadows were reverse-engineered from that? Fucking Schway," Nadya commented.

"You'd think that's why they're called Shadows, but it's actually because of the Shadow synchronization process, which is similar to interfacing with the part of your subconscious that stores unacceptable thoughts," Alvarez explained.

"It was given the designation 'Adam' and was a being of immense creative and destructive power. It scattered the Cores to develop more of its kind, but was then defeated by an experimental C-alloy munition that was fortunate enough to conduct the entirety of the amplified AT Field to charge itself. Project Eva was the attempt to derive a suitable combat platform from it, as Eve was created from Adam's rib in a certain storybook. It has yielded its first and currently only success in the form of the Shadow Unit." Dr. Mendoza switched the screen to show the various models of Shadows that were produced over the years, ranging from the prototypes all the way to the modern assault and maneuver types.

* * *

 _She's probably giving them that lecture on the different matter patterns right about now._ Valentine thought as he snuck deeper into the facility. He passed by the biosafety level 4 lab and came to another specially sealed facility, simply marked with a seven-eyed mask logo.

He took out a modified security card covered in circuitry. While Regina understood the meaning behind his level of comfort around Victoria Mendoza, she had failed to notice the covert transfer of the card during the hug. Inserting the card into the door's reader made it hum for a second before lighting up green and opening the door. The "skeleton key" hack on it worked on every card reader running DREAM secure access software, and had the added bonus of not logging the door being opened as a stolen or cloned card would.

Valentine crouched low, drawing his pistol and chambering a round. He entered a room resembling a layer of the bridge tower, having a similar arrangement of consoles overlooking a large open space.

He heard voices and the whirr of an elevator platform. Thinking quickly, the infiltrator ducked under a console, hiding behind the swivel chair and keeping his pistol ready.

The platform reached the console level and Lt. Col. Bertram Fuller stepped off, followed by a suit with an unfamiliar voice.

"And you're sure that these modifications to the system will be ready in time for our implementation?" the suit asked as he walked, oblivious to any intrusion.

"Of course. Rest assured that the A-one plug will be fully controllable, and should be able to coordinate adequately with the mass-produced versions," the Nerv officer replied.

"And you'll remind Colonel Swan about the importance of keeping this place secure, right? After Groom Lake's destruction set our schedule back this far, we can't afford to delay Human Actualization any longer."

"We still need to wait until all the Archetypes are defeated. Their interference would be worse than any human meddling," Fuller pointed out.

"We're at the halfway point now. Only fifty-four left. Ensure that this task isn't the limiting factor when everything else is ready." The man stopped and turned to Fuller. "And thank you for having your plutocrat friend in the media running stories about minor scandals in California this week. I prefer to keep my visits to the States low-key, and the news drawing attention elsewhere helps," the suit said before exiting through the secure door, giving Valentine a glimpse of his grey hair and some sort of high-tech visor. Fuller walked out after him, leaving the infiltrator alone.

Not wanting to use the platform in case it gave him away, Valentine opted to climb down an emergency ladder instead.

 _Good thing these guys are still thinking about OHS here._

When he reached the bottom, he saw two rows of hemispherical devices, each the size of a small car. The display mounted on the front of each machine showed a 3D model of a human brain with highlighted function areas and a sync readout, with most at 60-70%. The labels on them all said the same thing: "Template: A. E. Suess" followed by a number from 1 to 13. The final tank in the room, mounted on a raised section at the far end, had "A-1" written on it.

 _Shit. Looks like the dummy plug project is still on. I'll have to report it and hope that there's some way to destroy these things without raising an alarm. This one has an alphanumeric designation, so it's probably a new prototype._

* * *

"...and therefore, the contaminant in the rain is actually metastable Rubedo matter. However, it's not quite alive. Think of it like a prion - similar enough to our own proteins, yet also incredibly harmful to us because of relatively subtle differences. Exposure to it can cause the body's stable Rubedo matter to convert to the imperfect form and then destabilize completely due to it being rejected by the AT Field, similar to an autoimmune response. It's believed that Girard Ryan was suffering from terminal coherency disruption during his second term, but any chance to determine that went up in flames when that tanker T-boned the presidential limo," Victoria Mendoza explained to the pilots.

"That explains why the crazy bastard actually approved my training program," Alvarez joked. "Right, bro? Val?"

The pilots looked around, only to find their friend sitting at the back of the meeting room, leaning back in his chair and sleeping soundly.

"Huh?" Valentine woke and composed himself. "Oh, I must've dozed off. Sorry, this is the fourth or fifth time I've been over this stuff."

"You're bored by my lectures? I'm hurt, Val," the scientist teased.

"Ooh, drama!" Regina whispered to Nadya.

Dr. Mendoza's phone vibrated. She took it out and read the message, her eyes widening. "Looks like we're jumping topic from AT theory to genetics. They found a John Doe in Colorado. Fell out of a plane that was about to crash, but with a bullet hole in his head."

"Sounds like a hijacking gone wrong, not genetics," Alvarez pointed out.

The scientist switched the display to a picture of chromosomes, with certain sections annotated to show specific genetic sequences. "The forensic team had no idea who he was, so they tested his DNA and it came up with markers similar to those found in Gehirn's Manufactured program. Terminator genes, repaired telomeres, mood stabilization, and the gene that enhances Shadow synchronization. There are also other synthetic genes, but I've never seen them before."

"Looks like they messed with the growth inhibitors, among other things. Must've been a big guy," Valentine noted.

Nadya giggled at her fellow pilot's comment. "Nerv must have some serious leaks if someone's making super soldiers based on your cloning program."

"It's more than just that." Mendoza displayed another picture, showing the battered black bodysuit that was cut from the corpse. "He was wearing a modified plugsuit. Standard integrated medical suite, along with a bullet-resistant lining and attachment points for holsters and a gas mask. A very well-equipped organization has been trying to improve on our work."

"Shouldn't Section-two be looking into this instead of us?" Regina asked.

"Captain Metzger wants to keep this contained. Can't have the double agents behind the leaks finding out," Mendoza explained.

* * *

Theodore Stanford sat in his office, burying his face in his hands as he watched the holographic cubes having a shouting match.

"Back me up on this, Theo... ME-four! He fucked up again! RD-five can't even secure his own asshole!" UW-8 shouted.

"Don't drag me into this, Lucky," Stanford replied.

"Come on, you were the one going on about how the Myelin Institute was a total crapshoot!"

"They hacked the system to make the labs give monthly reports that looked semi-plausible. Everything looked fine until the quarterly inspection," RD-5 explained.

"I told you to use my security setup," IT-1 grumbled.

"What do you think I used? It doesn't help when your escapee can just find out the passwords from the administrator."

"Son of a-" Stanford gritted his teeth and rubbed his temples harder. "You let _her_ escape? Of all your insane projects, it had to be her? I've said this before, but you really are an idiot for not shoving her into a fucking walk-in autoclave the moment you found out what she could do! No, instead you did everything in your power to make her want to kill us in the most brutal ways known to man!"

"Well, at least one of the testosterone twins is a pancake now," UW-8 said with a chuckle. "How many clones to go?"

"A little under three-hundred. A few were killed during the escape, but the majority managed to get out. Specimen Psyche is by far the biggest concern, though," RD-5 warned.

"My guys weren't found in the wreckage, so I'm betting she'll 'interrogate' them and go after my operation in Vegas next," UW-8 predicted.

The media baron stood up and started to pace around the room. "Great. So in addition to endangering the lives of both Nerv personnel and our own operatives, you've put my little girl in harm's way."

"Relax, Theodore. Nerv pilots are essential to everyone's survival. Even the clones know about the threat of the Archetypes," P-0 interjected, playing the voice of reason.

"Forgive me if I'm not so certain about that. We are talking about psychopaths with nothing to lose here," Stanford pointed out.

* * *

That night, block C-38-11 became an even more macabre place. The soldiers had cleared out of it and the surrounding blocks, but still patrolled the edges of the district. Residents had initially approached to investigate the screams coming from the roof, but stopped when a near-perfect circle of bodies had formed with radius of eight meters from the exact center of the six-meter-tall micro-apartment building. A few more tried to loot or move the bodies, but suffered a similar fate.

Psyche was curled up in a sleeping bag between the solar panels on top of the building, clutching a Springfield XDM in her hands. The pistol's long stainless steel slide had locked back, indicating that it was now empty.

"Please, not another one. I already know how a murder works. Don't make me live any more of their memories. At least let me stay behind the mirror this time. The clear window lets them see me... lets them think of me. Please, no more second-hand training... Please..."

Her whimpers became incoherent sobs. She shivered in her sleep, holding her empty gun tightly against her chest.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** This is another exposition-heavy chapter, but introduces some important characters and concepts. Also, meme references!

As always, I hope you're enjoying the story so far. Stay tuned for more action next time, and more fanservice!


	8. The Coming Storm

Chapter 8: The Coming Storm / Questionable Innocence

May 5th, 2020

The giant manta ray flew low over the Mojave Desert. Its 200-meter wingspan blocked out the sun underneath it, but lit up the ground with a constant barrage of electric arcs. The lightning fused any sand that it struck, leaving a trail of jagged pillars behind the creature.

A squadron of desert camo-painted AV-27B Hornet II jet VTOLs flew after the Archetype, firing Hydra 70 rockets from pods under their wings. At predicted, the tiny projectiles were entirely ineffective, being detonated by lightning bolts when they came within roughly two kilometers of their target. This did present the problem of confirming or denying the presence of a defensive AT Field, but revealed the hazardous nature of the electrical discharges.

* * *

"DREAM was right. Looks to be an Innocent-type. The lightning is the mostly likely candidate for its passive weapon. Let's hope we don't see an active one," Metzger said as he watched the footage projected in front of the bridge tower.

"It's frying all our sensors as it passes over them! If we let it reach the city, it'll do massive damage to our infrastructure," 1st Lt. Montgomery warned.

"How are the evacuations and damage control procedures coming along?" the captain asked.

"Southern blocks are cleared out. Everyone's in the shelters. Right now emergency services are working to compartmentalize the power grid out there, hoping to contain the damage to only those blocks that take direct hits," 1st Lt. Ford answered.

"Good. Lawson, how are our Units coming along?"

"Everyone's in position. Stanford is uneasy but ready for hard drop. May I ask why you put her in the air?"

"She can operate the furthest out from the city. Valentine and Kasparova will be providing support fire from the limits of Vegas' cable length, while Alvarez is stuck in standby mode because he's attached to a field battery that allows him to intercept it outside cable range. We've left more of them along the projected path so he can reattach as he follows the Archetype. Only Stanford's field-type Unit is capable of moving freely without worrying about power," Metzger explained.

* * *

Units 4-04 and 6-06 lay prone twelve kilometers apart, aiming down the scopes of their EM-7 gauss rifles. Both of them were on the outskirts of the solar farms, acting as the first and last line of defense against the Archetype.

The team's frontline fighter stood between them, several kilometers out from the solar arrays. Unit 5-02 carried a currently inactive ultrathermic kriegsmesser over its shoulder. Like the messer it used in the previous battle, it was a straight, single-edged sword, but this one was almost as tall as the Unit wielding it.

Unit 3-07 flew over the battlefield, slung under the flying wing transport plane. It was still issued with the EM-5 flechette rifle, but the magazine capacity was tripled due to the replacement of the power pack with a hardline connection to the Unit's A2 reactors.

"Once you engage, stay on its eight o'clock and keep your distance between one and two kilometers. That way you'll avoid the worst of the shocks and any forward-facing attacks," Metzger advised.

"Got it!" Regina responded as she felt the aerodynamic container opening up, releasing her Unit into freefall.

The Shadow landed on its feet and was immediately hit by the shocks. However, her 35% synch ratio allowed Regina to feel them merely as tingles. Bringing up her rail rifle, she fired an ultrathermic flechette that shattered against the orange barrier put up by the manta ray.

Another shield appeared on the Archetype's other side as Valentine opened fire with his gauss rifle. Defending itself from two sides was taxing for the Innocent's AT Field, however, and it left itself vulnerable to another 440mm slug coming in from Nadya's position. The armor-piercing round embedded itself in the creature's body, but failed to slow it down.

Valentine double-tapped the barrier, shattering it and following up with another two shots. The orange octagon on Regina's side also broke as another red-hot spike bored through it, lodging itself in the Archetype's wing.

The Innocent came within range of Unit 5-02, sending an electric arc forward only to have Alvarez block it using his own AT Field. The Shadow activated its weapon and charged, bringing its sword down on the creature's head.

The ultrathermic kriegsmesser left a scorched gash in the Archetype's head and dorsal structure, but its wielder was bowled over as the manta ray continued its steady advance, subjecting Unit 5-02 to the intense lightning storm on its underside.

Alvarez gritted his teeth as he felt the constant shocks all over his Shadow's body. The displays in his entry plug went haywire, showing random colors and static, followed by a complete loss of power. The pilot tried to move his control sticks, but there was no response.

Meanwhile the rest of the team pelted the Innocent with firepower. Its front was marred by holes and grazes, while its left side was now a pin cushion for superheated flechettes.

"You alright?" Valentine asked between double taps.

Alvarez groaned, leaning back in his seat as he felt the lightning storm over him moving on. "I'm fine, but my Unit's toast. Auxiliary systems just rebooted, but I don't have any mobility."

"Valentine, take over as point," Metzger commanded.

"On it!" Valentine fired one last full-auto burst and discarded his empty rifle, then he opened a weapon case that was set on the ground nearby and retrieved another ultrathermic kriegsmesser. Rearmed for melee combat, the Unit dashed towards the center, hoping to reach it in time to intercept the incoming Archetype. The umbilical cable snagged against a solar collector, causing 6-06's end to detach and come down on its thrusters while the Shadow continued its sprint, now losing power.

Electricity arced between the manta ray's cephalic fins, then shot out towards the running Shadow. Unit 6-06 stumbled and went down on one knee as sparks flew from its leg.

"Come on, get me onto the redundant circuit..." Valentine urged, making his Unit limp along.

"Watch out for that-" Nadya paused as her Unit rolled to the side, only partially avoiding another discharge. "It'll really numb you if it hits." 4-04 stood up, holding up the EM-7 with its frame-supported right hand while the left arm hung limply, rebooting.

The sniper switched from aimed single shots to three-round bursts, peppering the Archetype's head but failing to sever the electrified fins.

Valentine's mobility came back and he resumed his sprint, holding the kriegsmesser by its inactive blade to manage its length better.

Stanford continued to jog and shoot alongside the Innocent, her Unit now showing the built-up damage of a dozen individual shocks on its silver and orange armor. The constant distraction made it difficult to aim, but the target's size also made it difficult to miss as she put another ultrathermic flechette into its side.

Suddenly, a lightning bolt hit her EM-5, running through the railgun's internal electronics and into the cable connecting it to 3-07's reactor. Several components behind Regina's seat blew out, sending bubbles into the LCL as the entry plug went dark. With no control signal and its armor going into emergency lockdown, the Shadow froze up mid-run and fell on its face.

"Power surge! Looks like the circuit breakers caught the worst of it, but all data feeds were cut off after that. Even emergency power got knocked out," Lawson explained.

Regina slapped her control sticks out of frustration. "Damn it! Not ag-"

Without warning, the floor in front of her burst open, filling her vision with a blinding light. The armor plate that normally covered the entry plug was blown off as a jet of plasma shot out of the Unit's back.

"Was that an ejection?" Metzger asked as he saw the flame-like jet on the drone feed.

Lawson's eyes darted back and forth between readouts. "Negative! Plug is still inside! I can't read Stanford's vitals! That looks like escaping reactor plasma, except that's..."

"Not possible. A fusion reactor failing catastrophically would only damage the lining of the reaction chamber at worst. Even directly breaching it would vent the heat out through the hole, not up into the entry plug housing," Metzger mused.

Back in the battle, Nadya deflected another electric arc with her AT Field and responded with another hail of gauss rounds. Meanwhile, Valentine finally reached the center, his Unit sliding to the cable and plugging it in just in time to maintain power.

"I'm in position, firing it up!" Valentine announced. Unit 6-06 held the kriegsmesser with both hands and pressed a button on the sword's hilt, causing the blade to glow red-hot.

"Reloading!" Nadya shouted as 4-04 let the magazine drop free from its EM-7 and inserted a fresh one.

"Hit it with a coordinated attack and finish this quickly. It's less than three kilometers from the solar arrays and we need to call in search and rescue ASAP," Metzger instructed.

Valentine charged at the Archetype, sliding under it and deflecting the worst of the shocks with his AT Field. His Unit still took a lightning bolt to the head, making his displays glitch out for a few seconds while the Shadow shakily stood up.

Nadya fired two more bursts at the Innocent's already shredded body, blowing a chunk off the top of it and exposing the Core.

Unit 6-06 jumped into the air, twisting as it swung the ultrathermic blade downwards onto the Core. It was left with a cracked indentation after the first strike but Valentine kept up the spin, bringing the kriegsmesser down again to split it completely and end the Innocent.

Predictably, the Archetype exploded. The Shadow on top of it backflipped off at the last second, shielding itself from the blast with its Territory.

"Kill confirmed," Valentine said as the smoke cleared.

"That's a wrap. Now let's get our friends out of there," Nadya added.

"Good job, pilots. SAR is en route now," Metzger announced over their comms.

* * *

"Holy shit. I can't believe she's still alive after that."

"Third-degree burns, complete coverage. Be careful when moving her."

"She's going into shock. Stay with us, damn it!"

"The suit's fused. We'll need to excise the entire dermal layer."

"Internal damage is minimal. Good thing she was breathing out when it happened."

* * *

The three uninjured pilots came up to the door to the ICU in Nerv's underground medical facility, only to find Dr. Mendoza sitting outside on a plastic-covered chair that added to the facility's sterile look.

"Can we see her?" Alvarez asked.

"You really don't want to. She's stable, but they're keeping her in a medically-induced coma. Not that she'd be able to do much even if they did let her wake up."

Alvarez shuddered, expecting the worst. "How bad is it?"

"Real bad. Spray-on skin isn't going to help this time. We're still assessing the extent of the damage, but over half of her senses will need cybernetic replacement."

* * *

Captain Metzger stood in the CO's underground office, towering over the expensive oak desk that contrasted with the room's futuristic bunker style.

"She doesn't need half the shit on this list, Colonel."

Colonel Swan turned around in her swivel chair. "It's for her own good. I, for one, would prefer to avoid having something like this happen to her again."

"Everything under her skin is intact. I can understand the benefits when this was done to me, but isn't it a bit much for her?"

"She's a combatant, just like you, Captain. Having these upgrades will improve her survivability."

"And how will Theodore Stanford react when you give that as the excuse for chopping up his only daughter?"

Swan put her elbows on the desk and steepled her fingers. "Mister Stanford might as well have asked for this himself. He should have considered the risks of sending an untrained civilian into a life-or-death situation before he begged me to fast-track her up the pilot candidate list."

Metzger's gloved fist tightened as he heard the last part. He paced from one end of the desk to the other, then stopped as he had an idea. "It's too invasive."

"That doesn't count as a downside to me," Swan pointed out, maintaining her dispassionate expression.

"Physical therapy to adjust to using a cyberlimb can take over a month, usually more for multiple ones. If we stick to cybernetic senses and dermal replacement, it'll only take a week or two. Her Unit will be operational by then so she can be out in the field again sooner."

The colonel narrowed her eyes. "Fine."

As the captain walked out into the hallway, Lieutenant Lawson ran up to him.

"Captain, DREAM finally determined how the reactor did that. It was the electromagnetic field from the shock that contained and channelled the plasma, preventing it from dissipating and making it burrow through the Unit's interior to the entry plug housing," Lawson explained.

"Can we update the A-two reactor safety systems to prevent this in the future?" Metzger asked.

Lawson nodded. "The engineers are working on it. Still, the EM field being the perfect shape to direct the plasma upwards was a freak occurrence, so we shouldn't be seeing it again."

"We also went back to Shadow firearms with triggers or hardwired connections when an Archetype that could disrupt wireless firing signals was encountered. Make sure that this vulnerability is rectified by the time repairs are done," the captain ordered.

* * *

Flashes of color danced in her vision, followed by geometric shapes, then more complex scenes. She felt like she was being pulled through various rooms and hallways, up stairs, flying over strange worlds that seemed unreal.

"B.g...ing ca..br...n."

The tinnitus she had heard in her dreams cleared. At first it was just test tones, but then more elaborate melodies came. Numerous voices flooded her hearing and she struggled to make out the words among the chatter.

"That does not sound like a good thing."

"You're special, sweetie, like I always told you."

"Nerv's personal PR firm must be pulling some serious strings."

"You want to push with your right hand while pulling with your left, but don't go too hard on it."

One voice seemed both real yet oddly far away. "We've mapped the nerve attachment points. There should be no loss of sensation."

It felt like the pain was coming back from where it had left off earlier when her nerve endings were burned away. She wanted to scream, but only silence left her mouth. The agony faded into pinpricks and was then replaced by familiar sensations - the hot sun, the cool breeze, immersion in liquid, someone's skin against hers.

"First diagnostics complete. We'll get a more complete picture once everything's settled in."

* * *

May 9th, 2020

The white business VTOL landed on a Las Cielos rooftop. Theodore Stanford emerged, took the elevator down to the Thundercloud's surface and stepped outside. A black Cadillac limousine was waiting for him, but the media tycoon seemed surprised by its presence, approaching cautiously once he saw the rear door open.

A man in his early forties was sitting in the rear-facing seat. He had black, slicked-back hair and cold blue eyes with dark circles under them. The gentleman wore a pinstriped black suit with a white dress shirt and a dark green necktie.

"Luciano Innocenti. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Stanford asked as he sat down.

The door automatically closed behind him and the car started moving.

Innocenti held out his hand. "Phone."

Stanford chuckled as he handed over his smartphone. "Why so paranoid, Lucky?"

The mobster opened a small soundproofed box and put the phone inside, then looked back to Stanford. "Soundproofing, Faraday cage to block transmissions, vibrating windows to foil laser microphones, mirrored coating to keep people from seeing us. Still, a phone doesn't need to be online to record, so I gotta take that precaution too."

"Alright, why all this secrecy?"

"Because I need you to help me with something."

Stanford looked out the tinted window, pretending to take in the sights. "Last time I checked, I only do character assassinations. The kind with guns are still your business, not mine."

"Your designation is media and entertainment, but your business is information. Not the technical kind like IT's, but the kind that a normal person can understand."

"Yeah, public information. Not the kind you need underworld contacts to know about."

Innocenti leaned forward. "Well, I have some very private information, and I need you to be ready to make it public real quick."

"I am not helping you in some blackmail scheme, Lucky."

"This isn't just some politico I recorded with one of my girls at the Apex. I've been working on getting dirt on our mutual friends."

"Our mutual..." Stanford covered his face with one hand. "You've got to be fucking kidding me. You're trying to go against Trust?"

"Not exactly. Call it a power play. I just need some leverage on big P in order to take him down a peg."

"Are you insane? You'll be going against eight of America's wealthiest and most powerful men!"

Luciano drew a Beretta 92FS Inox from his suit jacket and casually pointed it at Stanford's chest. "It's gonna be seven by the end of this car ride, one way or the other," he calmly stated.

"But you can't shoot me. You said you need my help," Stanford responded.

Innocenti holstered his gun and took out a box the size of a wallet. "And you need mine. This drive holds sensitive information on all Trust members, including you."

"Asshole," Stanford said with a glare.

"Now, the problem is that my guy in BosWash got whacked after he sent over his part of the intel. Kidnapped and executed, but no signs of torture, which suggests that our psychic psycho was behind it. The plane attack shows that she's trying to track me down, probably to get the drive and use it as a hit list."

"So, why give it to me?"

"Because you can bury it in a random server in your morgue. It's the only air gapped data vault I can think of that doesn't belong to the government, Nerv or IT."

"But if she gets to you, she'll know to go after me next."

"Won't get to that. I have a foolproof plan in case she tries to get within ten meters of me."

"How do you know she's not in the next car over, reading us right now?" Stanford pointed out.

"Well, RD said that her mind reading is based on Territory theory, so I had the Faraday cage in this car lined with C-alloy. Hopefully it'll work on the same principle."

"And your foolproof plan? Is it a C-alloy foil hat by any chance?" Stanford asked with a laugh.

"No, it's threatening to replace the sensitive information in my head with a bullet if she gets too close. I've been brushing up on my geometry and looking at maps of the city, so I can figure out a ten meter distance pretty much anywhere. With myself as a hostage, I can bait her long enough to get a sniper into position and take her out. At least that's the plan," Luciano explained.

"I've said a lot of shit about you over the years, but I gotta admit that your ammo ain't the only brass you carry around," Stanford lauded.

"Standard issue for being head of the Neo-Commission. Looks like we're done here, so take this and go see your daughter already, Theo."

The car stopped and Innocenti gave Stanford back his phone along with the portable drive.

* * *

Regina sat in her hospital bed and watched the bland daytime programs. At a glance, she would appear to be exactly the same as she was before the injury, but a closer inspection revealed several key differences. Her skin had the moderate tan that she had maintained before her life as a pilot, but it was too smooth, lacking pores and fine hairs. Her irises were still dark brown, but had the patterns replaced by distinctive bands, while her sclerae were pure white with no blood vessels. Her chestnut-brown hair still fell in waves past her shoulders, but was so stiff that it seemed to be saturated with hairspray.

Her father entered the room, his eyes wide as he saw her apparently unharmed, but slightly different in a way he couldn't describe.

"Sweetie, are you alright? How are you feeling?"

"Feelings are obsolete," Regina replied in a robotic monotone, then let out a hearty laugh in her normal voice. "Kidding! I'm fine, dad."

Theodore hugged his daughter, finally realizing the extent of the cybernetic replacement as her skin felt warm yet totally unfamiliar. "What did they do to you?" he asked as he pulled back.

Regina shrugged, giving a half-smile. "It's better than not having it. Alvarez told me about other pilots who had to live with horrible scarring back when this tech wasn't as advanced."

"Which one is he? The Mexican guy in the biker jacket?"

"Dad! He's Spanish!" Regina corrected, hearing the laughter of her friends out in the hallway.

"Gets that a lot, huh?" her father teased. "Just don't let him hurt you. These career pilot types are always hotheaded."

"Well, he's not. He's brave and driven and dashing and..." Regina was suddenly thankful that she now had conscious control of her blushing.

"Alright! Alright! Just don't let that bad boy act fool you into thinking he's someone he's not," Theodore warned.

"Dad, give me some credit. I'm an adult now, I know who I can trust," Regina replied. "And thanks for visiting."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** This chapter is largely the result of me determining the outcomes of the battles using Adeptus Evangelion V3.03.1 (with some modifications). When someone has to use Luck to survive, they still end up severely injured, so expect more pilots to end up with augmentations as the series progresses. No one is safe!


End file.
